


Heartaches and Dreams

by AshitaNewssnoopy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Pairings TBD - Freeform, Out of Character, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshitaNewssnoopy/pseuds/AshitaNewssnoopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of stand alone (unless otherwise stated), song-based ficlets. Includes fics based on Lips of an Angel by Hinder, Just the Way You Look Tonight by Tony Bennett, Sleep Together by Garbage, Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Run by Snow Patrol and more. NOT Songfics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lips of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
> 
>  **AN:** This was a series ficlets created for various birthday/Christmas gifts for my beta, back when I first started playing with the characters, so there may be some OCC and general exploring of the characters in different scenarios. The songs for the ficlets were chosen by random shuffle of my mp3 player and will be added to as requests come in or something just really strikes me as the perfect Harry/Draco song. They are NOT song-fics, but a bunch of drabbles that were inspired when I listened to the songs.

Harry stared at the phone in his hand as if it were going to bite him.

It couldn’t be.

Running a hand through his hair, his disbelief was palpable as he stared at the phone and then nervously flicked a glance toward the man sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come back for their post date drink, and perhaps more, oblivious to Harry’s inner conflict. 

He’d thought he’d never hear this particular tone again, but he’d recognize it anywhere – it had the same impatient, imperious tone as the owner it had been assigned to. He'd been vastly amused all those blissful months ago when he had chosen it for Draco. He’d (almost) completely forgotten about it; had never dreamed that it would play on his phone again (even if he’d kept the number, hoping against hope that it would) given their last meeting.

The one where Draco had ripped his heart out when he told Harry that he couldn't deal with dating Harry any longer.

Or more specifically, Harry’s celebrity.

“Everything all right there, Harry?” a low masculine voice asked, cutting through Harry's haze, making the brunet flush uncomfortably as Oliver arched a brow at the trilling phone.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a vague nod. 

He inhaled sharply and held up the device, making a rash, split second decision, all the while guilt chewed at his gut. He shouldn’t be doing this. But he could never resist Draco. Swallowing thickly, he walked out of the room, his mind already miles away and completely missed the knowing eyes that followed him.

“I just…” He paused with a small frown. “I need to take this. Be right back.”

Licking his lips nervously, he shut the door part way and hit the send button, bringing the receiver to his mouth as he managed to intone a fairly even salutation.

“Hello,” he greeted, his voice hoarse to his own ears. His heart thundered in his chest when there was a slight pause on the other side, and then nearly stilled when the voice that had always made him weak in the knees came across the line.

“Hello,” Draco greeted hesitantly, his voice sounding tinny and hollow. Harry knew that was partially due to the new technology, but it was also partially due something else that Harry couldn't place his finger on. Or perhaps it was just that he didn't want to identify it and raise his hopes up after months of silence.

“Hey,” he greeted lamely, weakly, uncertain as to what to say. And then he rolled his eyes, internally smacking himself across the head as he quickly followed it with something he hoped was reasonably coherent. “How are you?”

Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t all that coherent after all, but one could hardly fault his slow reaction time given his stunned senses. 

Draco and he had argued viciously about the media coverage of their relationship last time that they had talked and Draco had been incensed at what he perceived as Harry's lack of response to the melee. Little did he know that Harry had tried, repeatedly, to dissuade the accusations and frenzy in the beginning. But his actions had only made the stories grow much more vicious, virulent, and damaging, until he finally gave up altogether.

It was a fight he was destined to lose; because no matter how many years had passed since Voldemort's fall, people were still more interested in scandal and lies than the truth.

When Draco had left that day, he'd told Harry that they were over and he never wanted to see or speak to Harry again. He hadn’t even come for his own things. Instead he’d sent one of the manor’s house elves to pick up his things, leaving Harry to pick up the pieces of their shattered life, cold and alone.

Harry had been devastated; but he’d also, very reluctantly, acquiesced to the blonde's desires because he had seen how distressed the coverage had left his lover. And above all else, he wanted Draco to be happy. That is why this call, from out of the blue, had him reeling.

“Draco, is everything okay?” Harry prompted quietly as the silence grew out on the other end, and he detected a slight hitch in the other man's breathing.

“Yeah, sorry.” Draco apologized swiftly, drawing a deep breath.“I just...”

And then Draco paused again. And Harry didn’t really know what to do with that. He’d longed for this call for so long; had imagined it for so long, that he felt off his game.

“Yeah?” Harry prompted again, growing concerned when the blonde just sat there, his breaths harsh and heavy.

“I didn't expect you to actually pick up,” Draco admitted quietly, making Harry wince.

And Harry really couldn’t fault him for that; it had taken him a while to answer. And honestly there _had_ been a brief moment where he’d considered letting the call go to voicemail, afraid of what he might find on the other end of the line. But he’d never been a coward, and he wouldn’t start now. Especially when it came gitty exes that ripped his heart out.

“You know, when you saw it was me; and…” Draco said; and Harry could almost see him sitting there, fiddling with his wand as he was wont to do when nervous, and Gods, that hit him hard. “It's just good to hear your voice.”

“It's good to hear from you too,” Harry replied, swallowing around the lump forming in the back of his throat. He'd never realized just how much he had missed the sound of Draco's voice until that moment.

Sitting down heavily onto his bed, his head spun dizzily at the realization. The guilt from earlier welled up once more. He had someone in the other room waiting for him to continue their date and here he was, talking to his ex-boyfriend, listening to that heavy breath on the other end, and desperately wishing that it was Draco sitting in the next room. 

He was so utterly fucked. 

Swiping a hand over his face, Harry wearily hung his head. He had thought that he had gotten over this, over Draco, in the past six months of his absence; but all it had taken was one call, and a handful of words, and Harry right back to a time and place he’d tried to put behind him.

“Not meaning to sound rude or anything,” Harry gently said, his voice still thick with suppressed emotions. “But was there something you wanted? Only, it’s kinda late and you...you don't sound so great.”

“I just...” Draco's voice wavered, and he took a shaky breath before he pushed on with an odd question. “Is Oliver there?”

“Er...yeah,” Harry responded, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion and his tone lilting into a faint question at the end. “He's in the other room?”

“Oh,” Draco said softly, disappointment coloring his tone. “I probably shouldn't have called. You're busy and...”

“No!” Harry interrupted quickly, fear snaking down his spine and pooling into a leaden weight in his stomach as he sensed Draco's withdrawal. He had been surprised to hear from his former lover it’s true; but now that he had him on the line, he didn't want the call to end. “Wait, please.”

Harry stood up, looking around his room frantically as he tried to come up with a plausible reason to keep Draco talking and thankful that, despite the silence that had fallen once more on the other end, he could still hear Draco's soft, even breaths, letting him know he was holding the line.

“Let me...” Harry trailed off; let him what? Just go kick out his date and then they could pick up where they left off? What the _hell_ was he doing? “Let me just ask him if....let me just see him out and we can talk, yeah? If you like?”

There was another small pause and Harry bit his lip, running an agitated hand through his hair as he closed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. He'd promised himself he wouldn't go here again. It had taken him months before he ventured out of his house socially after Draco’s abandonment. And even _then_ , he'd only accepted the date with Oliver to get Hermione off his back and because Oliver knew from the very beginning it wouldn't go anywhere. 

And not even five minutes of stilted conversation later, he was shunting a prospective date for the blonde prat that, albeit unknowingly, left him broken and bleeding.

“Yeah,” Draco replied quietly. “I'd like that a lot.”

Clenching his free hand into a fist, Harry tried to ignore the way those words made his heart lurch and his stomach flutter. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and nodded, forgetting that the other man couldn't see the reflexive gesture before verbally confirming the request.

“Okay, um...” Harry responded in kind, darting a regretful glance toward the door. “Give me five minutes. Do you want to hold on or would you prefer I call you back?”

“Can I just come over?” Draco requested out of the blue, making Harry's heart stutter and then triple erratically, his knees going weak at the vulnerability in that voice. An emotion he knew Draco didn't display well. “I hate these bloody devices.”

Harry smiled at the last comment, a soft chuckle spilling over his lips before he could halt it. He remembered all too well what a struggle it had been to get the other man to finally purchase a 'phone.' Draco had complained about the devices, (the magical equivalent of a muggle cell phone), constantly and had only relinquished his stance to please Harry, who often worried about him when he had to be out late for a case. There had been many such upgrades to the wizarding world that mimicked muggle technology, but few wizards had grown comfortable with them, preferring the time honored methods of communication instead.

“Um...sure,” he replied hesitantly at first, but firming his resolve as he continued. “Sure. Just give me ten minutes. The floo will be open.”

“Okay,” Draco said and Harry could almost hear him chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he paused and then whispered. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry's lashes fluttered shut, a sweet ache suffusing his heart at hearing his name fall from those lips. No one had ever said his name quite like Draco.

“I'll see you in a few,” he acknowledged huskily, holding the line until he heard the telltale chime of it closing and then dropped his hand, pressing the other to his eyes as he drew a shaky breath and prayed he wasn't setting himself up for more heartbreak.

... … … … ...

Harry stared at the fire nervously, his fingers fidgeting as he rubbed his palms together and counted down the last couple of minutes before Draco's arrival. He felt bad about shooing Oliver out the door, done with what even he could see was a weak excuse about needing to get to bed early; but he did it nonetheless. And he kind of hated himself for it.

He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, and couldn't help wondering, for the dozenth time since he and Draco had hung up, if he was doing the smart thing.

This was beyond sensible. 

He really couldn’t afford to be seeing Draco.

It was going to break his heart all over again. 

Then again, when had he ever followed the wise path? He was more prone to recklessly following his heart than listening to the very real and sound objections in his head.

So he'd cleaned up the glasses from his and Oliver's after dinner drink and pulled out the bottle of brandy he'd bought six months ago, but had never opened, because it had been Draco's favorite. It had brought back too many memories of nights spent by the fire laughing, talking and loving. And he’d vividly remembered how Draco had used their last bottle, pouring the brandy over him in a thin line and lapping it up like a cat.

Harry’s breath hitched to this day at the memory; and he tried to avoid thoughts like this because it inevitably led to the pained knowledge that they were over.

Sighing, he pursed his lips and waited, lost in thought until floo flared to life, green flames erupting in the hearth as they spilled a slightly disheveled Draco onto the stone floor. He snapped his head up, drinking in the sight before him, one he hadn’t been privy to for six long months.

Mouth dry, Harry stared at his former lover, noting the deep shadows under his eyes. Draco’s face was a pinched, peaked thing, with the tiniest bit of uncharacteristic stubble gracing his jaw. He looked rough, as if he hadn’t slept for days. And yet, he was the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen.

“Draco,” he breathed, licking his lips as the silent blonde took his fill of him as well, likely cataloging the differences in his appearance just as he'd done with Draco. 

“Harry,” Draco greeted, his eyes sliding up to meet Harry's, where they collided and held with his for another long moment, leaving Harry to feel decidedly winded until he managed to shake himself out of his absorption. 

“Uh...come on in,” he invited, waving his hand toward the couch as he walked further into the room, and then gestured to the waiting bottle of brandy on the bar.“Would you care for a drink? I have that brandy you like or...”

“Brandy would be brilliant,” Draco replied, smiling as Harry flushed at the memories that seemed to flow between them as he opened the bottle and poured a measure into two glasses, taking some himself as he was sure he was going to need it to get through this conversation.

“Okay,” Harry murmured to himself, giving himself a silent pep talk as he crossed the room and handed Draco a glass, then sat on the sofa next to him, careful to maintain a polite distance despite wanting to be closer to the other man.

“Thanks,” Draco murmured, shifting slightly to face Harry as he sipped at the brandy and then set it aside onto the coffee table. “So, um, how is Oliver?”

“Oh, uh...great, I suppose.” Harry's forehead wrinkled and he gave a small shrug. Honestly, all thoughts or concerns of his former captain had flown from his mind the moment Draco had called and they weren't all that close in spite of the handful of dates they'd been on. “He's gearing up for another tour, so he's been pretty busy last couple of weeks.”

“Oh?” Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully and his fingers absently fidgeted with the sleeve of his black cashmere sweater. “You going with him?”

“No,” Harry carefully said, the furrow in his brow deepening at yet another odd question and shook his head slowly. “I...no...why would you think that?”

“You seemed serious,” Draco muttered, a small frown marring his countenance as he continued to pick at his sleeve, obviously reluctant to meet Harry's confused gaze. “The Prophet...”

“Right,” Harry sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation at the rag that had the nerve to pass itself off as a reputable paper. Reputable his ass. “The Prophet has us all but picking out curtains and what not. You should know better than to believe anything that rag prints. Oliver and I...we've only been out a few times. It's nothing serious. Not that he's not a nice enough bloke, but he is definitely a confirmed bachelor.” 

“I see...” Draco nodded, his shoulders releasing a bit of the tension they had been holding and he almost sighed in relief at Harry's answer.

“And...um...Blaise?” Harry asked, not really caring about the man who had replaced him, but feeling a bit at a loss with this entire conversation. He seriously doubted Draco cared about Oliver either, or that he had come over to exchange small talk, but he didn't know how to move it along without appearing rushed and rude. “How is he?”

“I don't know,” Draco said with a one shoulder shrug and then reached for his drink, taking a healthy swallow as Harry gaped at him.

“Huh?” 

Harry stared at Draco stupidly, and then cringed internally at his lack of eloquence. But he was honestly rendered speechless. Draco and Blaise had been inseparable since he and Harry had parted, and Harry didn't know what to make of that comment.

“We broke up a couple of weeks ago,” Draco said quietly, and then sighed. “If you could even really call what we had a relationship in the first place.”

“Oh, I thought...” Harry's voice died, utterly discombobulated by that revelation. It had hurt; seeing how quickly Draco had replaced him had nearly killed him. And now, to hear that Draco hadn't really considered him and his ex-house mate a couple soothed a bruised part of his heart. “Right, the Prophet...I really should take my own advice.”

“Yes,” Draco smiled faintly, exchanging a long-suffering glance with Harry.

“Are you okay with it?” Harry asked hesitantly; and then fiddled with the stem of his glass when Draco shot him a surprised look. It wouldn't do to make assumptions after all. “I mean, you sounded upset earlier and...”

“NO,” Draco refuted, shaking his head emphatically, his hair flying with the vehemence of it. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and then sighed and set his glass down, swiping a weary hand over his face.“I mean, yes, I was upset earlier, but no, it wasn't because of Blaise. It was my decision to end it. He...he wasn't the right person for me.”

“Oh,” Harry intoned softly, his heart giving a stubborn flutter before he ruthlessly quashed it. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Although, a small, vindictive part of him really wasn’t. He couldn’t even make himself feel bad about that.

“I'm not,” Draco said almost inaudibly.

And that brought back the flutters. Despite Harry's head telling him not to place too much meaning into Draco’s words. Just because Draco decided Blaise wasn't right for him, didn't mean that he thought Harry was; but his heart was as stubborn as the rest of him.

“So...” Harry dragged the word out, trying to find a polite way to ask just why Draco was there. “Did you want to talk about it? Whatever's bothering you?”

“I had a dream,” Draco replied cryptically, and Harry barely quelled the urge to roll his eyes impatiently, knowing it wouldn't do to rush the blonde at his side. “One that opened my eyes.”

“Okay,” he nodded encouragingly.

“It was about you, actually,” Draco confessed, giving his sleeve a nervous tug.

“Oh,” Harry responded breathlessly, swallowing harshly when Draco moved closer and their thighs pressed against one another.

“It...it was about the case you that you just solved,” Draco continued, absently drawing abstract designs on Harry's thigh, eliciting a delicate shiver throughout the brunet's body and nearly shattering his concentration. “The one where you were almost trapped in the building and ended up in hospital with burns from that misfired spell.”

“Yeah?” Harry queried, mentally chastising himself for the breathy tone his question took as the blonde demon proceeded to, unwittingly, drive him mad with those soft, absentminded touches.

“But it ended...well, it ended very differently,” Draco swallowed thickly, drawing his hand away , and Harry hated that he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the halted action. “You'd...let’s just say you didn't make it out of the building.”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry breathed; he made a distressed sound in the back of his throat as Draco's eyes clenched and a pained moue flashing briefly across his stoic face. Harry took his hand and rubbed soothing circles across the knuckles. “But...I'm okay.”

He knew all too well the fears that could creep up and strangle you when faced with such dreams. He'd often had them about Draco when he was working a difficult case with the Unspeakables.

“See...” Harry pulled at the collar of his sweater, exposing the pale curve of shoulder and collarbone that had taken the brunt of the curse. “Not even scarred.”

“I know,” Draco shuddered, his fingers tightening reflexively around Harry's hand as he lifted the other hesitantly. It hovered, as if he wanted to touch the exposed skin to reassure himself that it was indeed whole and unmarred, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he clenched it into a loose fist and dropped it. “I know; but it felt so real...it made me realize that I didn't want...I _couldn't_ live in a world without you in it.”

“Oh.” Harry whispered and dropped his hand from his shoulder, allowing the cloth to spring back into place. His mind whirled, frantically as he tried to process Draco's words, his stomach adding its own notes to the butterfly chorus that had started in his heart.

“And I realized,” Draco hurtled on, the words tripping over themselves in an effort to be expressed now that the dam had broken.“I made a really big mistake. I should have never walked away from you, Harry. I've missed you like crazy and I've been miserable without you.”

And that only added to the confused elation swimming through Harry's veins.

“ _Oh_...” Harry breathed intelligibly, his mind a cacophony of thoughts that refused to jell as he stared at the agitated blonde. 

“Harry,” Draco pleaded quietly, grabbing Harry's hand between both of his as he leaned forward earnestly, stunning Harry with the wealth of emotion that swam through stormy gray eyes. He'd never seen Draco this way; and he honestly didn't know what to say. “I know I don't deserve it, but please give me another chance? I promise, I'll make it up to you.”

“Draco...” Harry started, then paused, biting his lower lip as the words bombarded him, finally falling into a discernible order in his bewildered brain. Taking a deep breath, he watched the distressed man in front of him fidget and he sighed.“I don't...”

“No, you're right,” Draco cut him off, withdrawing both physically and emotionally as his mask fell back into place with what he obviously construed as Harry's rejection. “I shouldn't have come...”

“No, wait!” Harry cried, pain slashing through his heart as he scrambled for Draco's hands, grabbing them and keeping the other man seated while he frantically explained. “Draco. Please, just wait.”

Draco sat back and stared at Harry, their eyes melding as Draco searched Harry's face and eyes for that presumed rejection and sighed when he only found earnest appeal, the fight sapping from his body. Harry sighed with relief, his own shoulders relaxing as he closed his eyes. Drawing a steadying breath, he wet his parched lips and studied Draco seriously, pulling together the words that could make or break this moment, but ones he knew must be said.

“I'm not saying no,” Harry explained, a small smile touching his lips when gray eyes lit. “Because the truth is, I've missed you too and nothing has been the same since you've left. I just...”

Pausing, Harry averted his gaze, unable to watch the shining eyes and that bright smile fade when he reminded his former lover of all the problems that still stood between them; the most significant of these being the reason Draco walked away in the first place. They were still valid concerns. And as much as Harry would love to throw caution to the wind, and throw his arms around the blonde in welcome, snogging him senseless in the process, he knew these worries needed to be addressed.

“I just...” Harry trailed off when words failed him as Draco's smile dimmed, but pushed through nonetheless. “I want you to be sure. Because the last time I saw you, you said you couldn't live with the media circus that is my life.”

Harry turned back to Draco with a resigned frown. He nodded when the blonde sighed and closed his eyes. It was silent for a long moment as Draco visibly struggled with himself, but then he too nodded wearily in acknowledgment, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“Nothing has changed,” Harry warned gently. He squeezed Draco's hands between his, meeting a much more sober gaze as Draco opened his eyes. “I mean, I've only been out with Oliver five times and you see what they've been printing. I can't change that no matter how much I'd like to. They are always going to hound me; and if you're a part of my life, some of that will backlash onto you.” 

Harry halted once more, swallowing nervously as Draco hung his head, seeming to accept the truth of Harry's words. And given the fact that the blonde hadn't yet run screaming from the building, Harry was hopeful that they might work through this issue. But he planned to hold back just a touch until he saw that Draco was serious about working through their problems. He wanted this reconciliation more than anything, but...

“And...” He took a deep breath, his words coming in a rush as he laid it all down on the line. “I don't think my heart can stand it if you walked away again. It almost didn't survive it last time.”

“I know,” Draco sighed, his hands tightening around Harry's. “And while I hate the idea of having my life smeared across the pages of the Prophet, after everything that has happened, that dream showed me that...it doesn't matter.”

Harry made a slight strangled noise in the back of his throat as gray eyes lifted and met his, and so much love and pain stared back at him. Moving unconsciously closer, he untangled his hands from Draco's to smooth soothingly over his arms before sliding them back down to entwine their fingers once more.

“I woke up, heartbroken, reaching for you instinctively and my heart dropped when I found nothing but empty space; and it took me several minutes to remember the reason why you weren't there, the dream felt that real. I don't...” Draco choked out, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. “I don't ever want to feel that way again.”

Making another clucking sound, Harry dropped Draco's hands and pulled the other man into his arms, shuddering softly when he found himself wrapped in a tight embrace. He closed his eyes, reveling in Draco' nearness after months of absence. Resting his head against Draco's temple, he inhaled the soft vanilla, citrus and sandalwood scent that he’d always loved so much, and had missed so desperately, as the first tendrils of hope warmed his heart since the other man had walked out of the door.

“Do you think you might...” Draco asked hesitantly, his voice trailing away as if fearful that voicing the full thought would scare Harry off.

“Let's do this,” Harry said, wanting to take this second chance, but instilling a measure of caution so he didn't rush in heedlessly as he was wont to do. He didn’t want it to all spectacularly fall apart around him. “Tomorrow, I will talk to Oliver and explain that I can't see him any longer. And then on Saturday, we can go on a date perhaps?”

“Yes,” Draco agreed fervently, nodding his head jerkily, so that silky blonde hairs teased against Harry's brow, mussing it further. “That sounds good.”

“And we'll take it from there,” Harry tucked a stray lock of hair behind Draco's ear and then dropped it to take his hands again.

He could sense Draco's disappointment at his cautious demeanor, and that his answer hadn't been an unequivocal yes, but he felt this was necessary. The first time around, they had rushed in as their passionate natures dictated; and they had spectacularly crashed and burned when things got rocky. He wanted it to last this time; and for that to happen, they needed to build slowly from the ground up.

“I really want to say yes, Draco; but, I also want to be sure that you know what you're getting yourself into. My life is never going to change. It will never be easy. There will be quiet times when the paper barely notices my existence; and then there will be times when something will kick up another media storm and they’ll be in my face day and night. I have no control over that. Can you accept this?”

“I understand,” Draco said, smoothing his hands against Harry's arms. “Anything, Harry. I'll prove it to you. I...”

Draco never finished his thought, opting to grab Harry around the waist and snog the life out of him instead in response. Harry moaned, his hands grappling for purchase. He locked onto Draco's arms at first, squeezing as Draco’s tongue teased the seam of his lips; and then he slid them up over Draco’s biceps to curl around his neck as his lashes drifted shut. Tangling his fingers into the fine hairs at Draco's nape, Harry pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, his breathing snagging as teeth caught onto his bottom lip and nipped.

Gasping softly at the slight sting, Harry parted his lips and groaned when Draco took advantage of it, slipping his tongue between them and curling it around Harry's. Draco languidly stroked, enticing Harry to all but knock the blonde flat on his back as he climbed into his lap and straddled his legs. Entwining his tongue with Draco's, he slid his hands up through silky blonde strands and tilted Draco's head slightly, unconsciously taking control of the kiss, leaving the other man to clutch at his back as he devoured the mouth he'd missed desperately.

Pulling back when the need for air made itself known, Harry placed a chaste kiss near the corner of Draco's mouth and leaned his brow against the blonde's with a sigh. He'd love to continue this, but the niggling thought in the back of his mind wouldn't allow him to lose himself in Draco just yet. He and Oliver might be casual, but he wasn't one to date two blokes at once. And he knew that, for his own sense of fair play, he needed to end what he had with the former Gryffindor before taking up with his snarky, former Slytherin.

“Mmm...as much as I'm enjoying this, and I do hate to cut it short, we should wait,” Harry reluctantly sighed, a pang of disappointment hitting him even if it had been his decision to halt things. “At least until I have the chance to talk to Oliver. As much as I'd love nothing more than to take you to my bed right now, it's not fair to him.”

“I know,” Draco agreed, equally reluctant, but he too seemed to realize that it was for the best to reconcile those nebulous attachments before they reunited. “You're right, but...do you mind if we just lay here for a while? Not doing anything, of course...I just want to feel you close to me.”

“I think I'd really like that,” Harry whispered with a smile.

Sighing with contentment when Draco laid back against the couch, taking Harry with him, he curled himself around the blonde and buried his face into Draco's neck. He nestled his head into the crook of Draco’s shoulder, where it had rested so many times before, and let the even rhythm of Draco's heart lull him into a deep, complacent sleep.

... … … … ...

“So did he finally do it?” Blaise asked curiously, arching a dark brow at his sandy-haired companion when the man slid into the booth, where they'd met multiple times to plot and plan.

“Draco called tonight,” Oliver nodded, pausing to order a butterbeer when the waitress came up and then continued with an unrepentant grin. Really, these measures wouldn't have been necessary if the foolish sods had just talked to each other. “Harry tried to hide it, but you know him, he can't lie to save his life. Subtle as a hammer to the head, that one. He all but shoved me out the door with some weak excuse, so I'm sure Draco was on his way over.”

“It's about time,” Blaise laughed, clinking his glass against his accomplice's.

Two weeks prior, Blaise had run into the former Gryffindor after a date he'd had with Harry, having newly broken things off with Draco. And over drinks, they had commiserated with one another about the fact that neither man had moved on, but were stubbornly refusing to do anything about it. Their partnership was born that night, both wanting nothing more than their friends' happiness, and they’d plotted to make it happen. Even if meant that they’d have to drag Harry and Draco into it, kicking and screaming the entire way.

Luckily, it hadn't come to that extreme of a measure.

Well – mostly – they both did owe Weasley one for his supposed lack of grace.

“I thought Draco was going to drive me mad with all his Potter prattle. I was sure he was going to pop a vein when he saw that the two of you were dating. Nice touch on the domestic bliss angle; the press really soaked that up. And Draco was practically foaming at the mouth.”

“That was inspired,” Oliver agreed with a smirk, “But really it's Ron that is owed kudos for cementing the deal with that misfired curse.”

Oliver recalled how aghast the redhead had been when they had tricked him into being an accomplice to their machinations. Especially since it had been related to 'that ferret' as he put it; but even Ron had to acknowledge that Harry had been utterly miserable without Draco. And he’d reluctantly agreed to help smooth the waters between his best friend and his schoolyard nemesis. Ron's love for his best friend, and adopted brother, had been greater than his animosity for Draco.

“I owe him season tickets for that,” Oliver continued, tracing the edge of his glass. “Merlin knows the guilt of cursing his best friend will eat him alive if Hermione doesn't kill him first for being careless. That and supplying that experimental Wheezes gag that affects dreams. Harry will likely kill him for getting involved, but needs must...”

“Hopefully, we'll never have to do this again,” Blaise said fervently, taking a sip of his scotch with a weary shake of his head, thankful that Draco was now Potter's problem once more. He knew he could be quite high maintenance himself, but Draco took it to an extreme. 

“Knowing those two stubborn prats? You can count on it,” Oliver disagreed, taking a long, resigned drag from his butterbeer. “But next time, it will be some other sap's problem.”

“Hear, hear to that,” Blaise saluted with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet inspired by Lips of an Angel by Hinder.


	2. Just the Way You Snark Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took them fifteen long years to get here, but they were finally where they wanted to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the lyrics of Just the Way You Look tonight. 
> 
> **Warning:** Tooth-rotting fluff with a dash of snark.

_"Some day,"_ Harry crooned softly, smiling when his warm baritone filled Draco's ear and caused his new husband to hum in contentment. They had been waiting for this day for so long, that it still surprised him that it had finally arrived.

Draco and he had been together for nearly fifteen years, having started dating a couple of years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and it had been an uphill battle between friends, family and the Ministry to get to where they were today.

 _"When I'm awfully low..."_ Harry continued, brushing a gentle kiss over the blonde's ear and spun him in a slow circle, which was about the extent of his dancing prowess, and looked into beloved gray eyes, amazed that this man was his.

Both family and friends had protested their relationship – Harry's thinking Draco had coerced him somehow, and Draco's upset that he took up with the enemy instead of settling down with a pureblood bride – and they had fought the union, causing both men to leave and stay away for a time until the naysayers could get their priorities straight.

_"When the world is cold..."_

And when friends and family fell into line, they had to wait years before the wizarding world got over their antiquated views and allowed for same sex unions. While they hadn't looked down on them as badly as muggles, there was still a sentiment that such couplings would be short lived and wouldn't stand the test of time. But he and Draco had proven them wrong with fifteen blissful years and counting.

_"I will feel a glow, just thinking of you."_

But to Harry, they had always made an odd sort of sense. Even as children, constantly bickering and hexing each other, they could never seem just leave the other alone. It should have been easy to ignore the blond, but something had always gotten under his skin when it came to Draco and he gravitated to him, often against his will. So when Harry discovered he enjoyed kissing men as much as he did women, was it any wonder he drifted towards the snarky Slytherin?

 _"And the way you look tonight,"_ Harry sang, tipping his head back slightly to admire the man wrapped in his arms.

Draco smiled back, brushing a soft kiss across his cheek as they slowly circled the dance floor under the dreamy, supportive eyes of friends and family. Harry had to admit that the blond was stunning tonight.

"Of course you will," Draco, murmured smugly, smirking when Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head disparagingly at his display of vanity. "I am spectacular."

 _"Oh, but you're lovely..."_ Harry rasped, a gentle grin touching his mouth, lighting impossibly green eyes with joy and mirth as Draco gave an affronted huff and pulled back with a mock glare.

"Lovely?" Draco groused playfully, frowning at his smirking husband. "I am not a bloody girl, Potter."

"Potter-Malfoy..." Harry corrected, kissing the ring on Draco's left hand, drawing a dreamy smile from the blond and his eyes danced with amusement when Draco sniffed, shaking off the reminder in favor of continuing his complaint.

"I am dashing, stunning, devilishly handsome, but never lovely."

"You also run at the mouth..." Harry observed, resting his forehead to Draco's and closed his eyes, his heart swelling with happiness and love as his love snorted and proceeded to pout quite attractively. Opening his eyes, he pulled the slightly protruding lip between his teeth and nipped it gently, pulling Draco closer still as he admitted with a sigh.

_"There is nothing for me, but to love you..."_

"Don't sound so disgruntled when you say that," Draco snorted, drawing a soft chuckle from his dance partner as he took over the lead, turning Harry into a tight circle and making his head spin in tandem.

 _"Just the way you look, tonight,"_ Harry mouthed along with the song they'd chosen for their first dance as a married couple, picking up the muggle tradition from Hermione.

"Yes, you are obsessed with that, aren't you?" Draco drawled, pulling Harry back into his arms and smirked when the brunet rolled his eyes again, watching him with a fond exasperation. "With good reason naturally."

"Naturally," Harry mocked.

Draco's vain streak was notorious and Harry didn't even bother to chide him for it any longer, knowing his comments would fall on deaf ears. It was just his way and honestly, he loved him just the way he was – snarky attitude and all. Laughing internally as he listened to the lyrics of the song, he couldn't resist adding a slight sardonic twist as he whispered the next words in Draco's ear.

_"With each word, your tenderness grows..."_

"You know," Draco commented dryly, starry-gray eyes filling with amusement as he picked up the satirical undertone to Harry's voice. "I don't think Tony Bennett meant that statement sarcastically."

"Yeah, well..." Harry snickered, his tone equally as dry as he arched a brow. "One works with what one is given..."

"Ha, bloody, ha..." Draco deadpanned.

 _"And that laugh,"_ Harry serenaded, his lips twitching when the blond rolled his eyes at Harry's continued mocking, scrunching his nose as Harry dropped a kiss onto it. _"That wrinkles your nose..."_

"It does not!" Draco refuted hotly, scrubbing his nose furiously in protest. "You, take that back!"

 _"Touches my foolish heart,"_ Harry trilled, capturing the flailing hand in his and pressing it to his heart, dragging a soft smile from his laughing husband as the blond quipped.

"Well, at least we're in agreement on something."

Giving a startled chortle, Harry rubbed his cheek against Draco's, humming in contentment as the blond sighed and leaned into the caress, his hand tightening around Harry's waist to bring him into the cradle of his body. Harry beamed, love and warmth colliding into a messy ball in his chest as they stared lovingly at each other and Harry rasped seriously.

_"Lovely, never, **never** change..."_

"Not likely to happen, Potter," Draco scoffed quietly, a pleased flush spreading across his cheeks.

"Potter- _Malfoy,"_ Harry reiterated, placing emphasis on the addition to his name with a smile. "You really ought to get used to that, dear."

"Too long," Draco sniffed haughtily, not at all serious about his complaint, but enjoying twitting his husband just as much as Harry was enjoying teasing him. Waving Harry off with an imperious flick of his hand, he feigned a sigh and relented grudgingly. "I suppose, I'll just have to call you Harry."

"That works too," Harry nodded with an indulgent smile, not at all bothered by Draco's snark. Truthfully he enjoyed the blonde's acerbic wit; it made for an interesting union and he indulged it for a reason. _"'Cause I...I love you."_

"Of course you do," Draco intoned pompously. "What's not to love?"

 _"Just the way you look tonight,"_ Harry purred with a soft laugh, green melding with silver as Draco drew back to meet his gaze – love, happiness and tenderness reflected within their depths.

"You are a complete sap," Draco pronounced with complete and utter delight.

"And you love me for it," Harry quipped, feeling insanely blessed to have this man as his life partner. Could it get any better than this?

Smiling softly, Draco leaned down the slight one to two inch distance between their heights and kissed Harry gently, lingering for a moment as the music came to a close around them, whispering reverently as he drew back.

"I do that."

Harry hummed softly, wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde and pulled him into a heated snog as their friends and family whistled and cheered and cat-called around them. There was no place he'd rather be and no one else he'd rather share this moment with; Draco was his heart and soul, and he loved him beyond what mere words could express.

_"Just the way you look...tonight."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet inspired by Just the Way You Look Tonight by Tony Bennett.


	3. Irresistible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is on the prowl, but what happens when the predator becomes the prey? He'll find those snarky blondes are far too irresistible for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two ficlets are companion pieces. This is the Harry POV.

Harry sat back on his stool, his unattended scotch on the rocks creating a pool of condensation on the bar in the sultry press of late summer air, and avidly watched the dancers with baited breath, the crush of bodies heating something low and primal in his belly as he slowly wet his lips. He'd come here for one reason alone, to pull in a warm, friendly body and forget life, and the cold sting of rejection, for a few hours. But he'd yet to see anything that sparked his interest – well, with one exception, but he wasn't even going to think about him. That was just asking for trouble; and he did try to resist the call of adventure, risk and danger these days if he could at all help it.

Knocking back his liquid courage in one go, he slid off his perch, snaking his way through writhing, damp bodies as he skirted the fringes of the of the dance floor, taking the chance to get a better view of the offerings, which were plentiful this evening, and he had no doubts of his ability to entice his chosen closer. He had dressed to kill after all, pouring himself into the ridiculously and sinfully tight black, leather pants that Hermione had talked him into buying, coupling them with knee-high black, dragonhide boots and a deep green, sleeveless shirt that nearly matched his eyes perfectly.

He completed the look with messily tousled hair, which Hermione had scandalously decried, saying it made him look like he had been shagged up against the wall, but also couldn't help but admire at the same time. Especially when he paired it with a single, gold hoop dangling from his newly pierced ear and a live, decorative snake, that curled around his upper arm. She shook her head at him disparagingly, sniffing that the outfit was going to get him into nothing but trouble, but since he was feeling the need to court a bit tonight – just a bit and certainly not of the level of the kind the blond would give him – he had laughed it off and donned them anyway.

He felt good, and judging by the numerous appreciative glances from men and women alike since his arrival, he knew he looked good as well. Flashing a sultry smile at a passing blonde, he chuckled softly when she giggled, dipping her head against her companion's as they whispered frantically to each other, both sets of feminine eyes following him through the crowd, and he added a subtle swagger to his step just because this intricate social dance had been unexpectedly fun. But as enticing as the view had been, he was avoiding blondes this evening.

Or at least one particular blond – but, luckily that one hadn't noticed him yet.

He hoped.

Catching the telltale flash of platinum out of the corner of his eye, he ducked his head and dove into the crowd, leaving the man behind as he studied him through a veil of thick, black lashes. Flicking his eyes over the lissome form, he licked his lips longingly and couldn't help but admire the delicious play of sinew and skin that coiled and writhed as he danced, approving of the way pale blonde locks fell around sharp features, softening them nicely. If Harry were to be perfectly honest, the man in question was beautiful – exquisite even – and if it had been anyone other than that particular person, he might be tempted to a closer look.

But that way laid more heartache than it was worth he was certain.

Turning his face away, he missed the flash of silver, gleaming through the half-lidded eyes that followed his every movement, as they had been since he'd moved away from the bar and into the fray; a predatory heat lighting in them that burned and coveted, and kept him within their sight as their owner stalked him across the dance floor.

Slinking through the crowd, Harry paused, his eyes lingering on one figure in particular; a tall, muscled redhead that reminded him of Bill Weasley and he watched the man for several minutes, riveted by the lazy seduction his potential prey was weaving. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as they traveled over the fit form and was just contemplating going over and pressing up against it, when an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him against a hard, defined chest.

"Beautiful," his assailant whispered reverently against his ear.

That voice, one he'd likely never forget, elicited a small shudder of desire throughout his body and his eyes drifted shut, caught by the sinfully sexy growl in it. Damn...he had been meaning to avoid this one particular attendant tonight; and he could only blame his absorption in his potential prey for getting caught in the web of another. Biting back a groan as teeth sunk into his earlobe, Harry tried to pull away, only to find himself firmly trapped within the steel bands that passed for his nemesis' arms.

Harry's breath hitched, his body tightening deliciously as the blond pressed a soft kiss against his rapidly thrumming pulse and he let out a little helpless whimper as hands ghosted over his torso to grip his hips, and then groaned in truth when hips ground against his arse, catching every cell aflame. Gasping as he was suddenly spun around, his eyes popped open and green clashed with silver as they collided. Harry smiled smugly when those gorgeous eyes widened in recognition as they took in their prey, sliding over his body greedily before coming back to his, a curious smirk pasted on pale pink lips.

"Potter?" Malfoy queried faintly, arching a finely groomed brow as he crowded Harry, making the brunet's breath snag in his chest as long, lean legs pressed against his.

"Malfoy," he nodded, damning the slightly breathy quality of his voice and tried to move away, only to run into a tall table behind him, and getting pinned in by the lethally attractive blond.

"You..." Malfoy licked his lips, his gaze sliding over Harry's leather and silk clad form hungrily and then shook his head as if to clear it, inducing a flash of triumph that surged through Harry's breast. Maybe he wasn't the only one susceptible; he had to remember to thank Hermione for her help tonight if that were so. "I didn't expect to see you in a place like this."

"Like what?" Harry arched a brow, leaning back as far as he dared to put some distance between him and the seductive blond, but failed miserably, as it only encouraged Malfoy to close the distance until they were pressed chest to chest and thigh to thigh. "A dance club? Or a predominantly gay dance club specifically?"

"Both," Malfoy breathed against his ear and Harry cursed internally; his nemesis had never been one to play fairly and it seemed like he'd already deduced one of Harry's weaknesses. "Either. I thought you were with the Weaselette. And straight."

"Not anymore," Harry replied breathlessly, pushing his hands against the insufferable man's chest and only succeeded in getting them trapped between their bodies. "And I play both ends of the field. Not that I advertise that fact. Thankfully, most people here are far too wrapped up in their own secrets to bother with mine. That is, until now. Should I be concerned that I'll be seeing this in the Prophet?"

"Now why would I do that?" Malfoy whispered, his breath hitching when Harry pinched him, unintentionally getting one of his nipples – pierced nipples at that – in an attempt to free himself.

"Because you enjoy making my life a living hell?" Harry replied dryly, gasping when the blond retaliated in kind and pinched his bum, then grabbing himself a nice handful, pulled the brunet deeper into his body.

"That's all in the past, Potter," Malfoy rasped, groaning aloud when Harry struggled against him, managing to excite the insufferable prat, but also getting him to step back a step. "I prefer to use this knowledge to another benefit."

"Dare I ask?" Harry queried mockingly, feigning interest as he maneuvered his body to break away once he had a chance.

"Dance with me," Malfoy requested, frowning when Harry gave a slight nudge of his hip and managed to slip free of his confinement.

"I don't think so, Malfoy," Harry lofted, slipping away, his heart pounding in his ears even as his body protested his escape. Apparently, despite his mind's insistence that tangling with Malfoy was a folly, his body didn't agree. Which is probably why he didn't make it more than five feet before he felt long, tapered fingers clamp around his wrist. Damned Seeker's reflexes.

"Well," Malfoy threatened softly, using the momentum of Harry's flight against him and pushing him into a wall, his fingers clamping around the other wrist as he walked him back and pinned them over his head. "I could just let the information accidentally slip..."

"I could just obliviate you," Harry threatened, all the while realizing how empty his threat sounded given his current predicament.

"But you won't," Malfoy lofted, pressing that sinfully fit and irresistible body to Harry's, drawing a shudder of need from the brunet. Smirking, Malfoy leaned in, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips as he whispered confidently. "Had you actually planned on seeing that through, you'd have done it already."

Staring at those taunting lips, Harry hated to admit that the blond was right, but well, what could he say? The truth was, Harry was both alarmed and excited by the other man's persistent pursuit and he really did want to see where the night was going to end. Flicking his tongue over his lips, his breath hitched when it caught the corner of Malfoy's mouth, dragging a pained groan from the other man. Those lips hovered enticingly over his, their breaths mingling, bringing the faint hint of alcohol with it and he knew he was slowly losing this battle of wills.

Really, how on Earth was he supposed to resist the man when his every word and movement was drenched in sex?

"Come on, Potter," the blond enticed, his lips brushing over Harry's, leaving behind sparks of electricity in their wake, making Harry weak in the knees. "One dance; you know you want to."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Malfoy," he murmured, a far cry from the firm denial he meant to issue and the man in front of him smiled smugly, sensing his weakening resolve. "I'm not much of a dancer. You're better off with one of those hot, young things vying for you attention out there."

"Don't want them," Malfoy responded, a mere breath against his ear as he pressed his nose into the hair at Harry's temple and inhaled deeply, his voice dropping to a warm, sexy rasp. "I want you. And I'd make it worth your while. I guarantee that you'll...enjoy yourself."

"I..." Harry trailed off, his eyes fluttering shut as a hard thigh insinuated its way between his, and Malfoy pressed his very stiff, very interested cock against the hollow of his hip, rubbing against him sinuously, making him completely lose his train of thought.

"Say yes," Malfoy murmured, tracing a hot trail of kisses along his jaw, and sucked on the skin above his pulse, drawing it into his mouth and biting down hard enough to leave a mark, causing Harry's hips to buck softly. "Say yes, Harry."

"Hmmm..." Harry hummed mindlessly, tilting his head to allow Malfoy better access, his breath coming in rapid, shallow pants as his hands broke free from their imprisonment to clutch at Malfoy's back, his entire body arching up into the slightly taller man's, seeking more friction. "Draco..."

"Yes, you want to," Malfoy tempted urgently, his arms wrapping around Harry and bringing him deeper into the cradle of his body, leaving the brunet reeling. "I can feel how much you want to give in. Say yes, Harry, and I'll make sure you never regret it."

"Yes..." he whispered as lips captured his, the taste of mint and scotch and an underlying flavor he couldn't identify, but named Draco, filling his palate as a hot, seeking tongue slipped between his lips and curled around his, tangling in a dance as old as time.

Merlin, what was he doing?

"Excellent," Malfoy crowed quietly once he drew away, flashing Harry a smug smirk as he grabbed the discombobulated brunet's wrist, tugging him from the wall and into the fray.

"Wait..." Harry spluttered, the haze in his head lifting as Malfoy dragged him onto the middle of the dance floor and he wondered what he'd just agreed to in his Malfoy-induced stupor. "I meant..."

"Too late, Potter," Malfoy interrupted, dragging Harry against him, molding their bodies together until not even a millimeter of air was between them, and began a sinuous rocking that sent a frisson of excitement shooting down Harry's spine as he rasped his claim. "You're mine."

Giving up his weak resistance, Harry fell into the dance, groaning heartily when Malfoy's hand cupped his arse and he slid a thigh between his legs, rubbing against the painfully hard cock between Harry's. Rocking their bodies to the low, throbbing beat, Malfoy captured Harry's lips, continuing the dizzying dance they'd started against the wall. Sliding his hands over Malfoy's back, Harry fisted one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other grasped his shoulder and he crawled up that body, laughing breathlessly when the action elicited a grunt of need from his blond tormentor.

Grinding his hips against the taller man's, Harry's hands roamed freely over that Quidditch-trained form, all the while maintaining their parody of a dance, that was more akin to fucking with one's clothing on. He figured, if he were destined to hell that night, he might as well burn as brightly as he could on the journey. Drawing back from that far too talented mouth, he cupped Malfoy's arse and groaned as a rock hard erection ground into his, sliding together in a delicious friction that ripped the air from his lungs, leaving him seeing spots as their bodies clung and melded.

Panting harshly, a pulse of desire rippled across his nerves as Malfoy brushed his lips over his ear and whispered huskily, "Come home with me."

Harry contemplated making a token resistance, but gave it up for naught when hot hands slid over his already overheated body, burning his skin with long trails of fire and responded the only way that made sense –

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet is based on Irresistible by Jessica Simpson. I find it amusing this song is even on my iPod as it is so far from my taste in music; but I downloaded it for another story and have yet to delete it. Thankfully it worked for this little fic.


	4. Sleep Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has managed to lure his prey back to his lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to Irresistible.

The twist of Apparation faded from his gut as it spilled them into his room, their bodies still entwined from the heated dance they had engaged in; the moment that sweet 'yes' had fallen from his quarry's lips, he had wasted no time in getting them away from the club and heavy, prying eyes. Staring down into emerald eyes, clouded over in lust, Draco still couldn't believe that he had managed to coax the skittish beauty into his lair – but now that he had him there, there was no way he was going to let the raven escape. Whether Potter fully realized it or not, Draco had staked his claim and a Malfoy never relinquished their treasures once found.

Capturing the pink lips that had been driving him mad from the moment he'd spied them from across the room, Draco dragged the shorter man into the cradle of his body, drinking from that lush, honey-tinged mouth as a man dying of thirst. Groaning when the brunet met him with equal fervor, he tugged impatiently at the snug, green shirt that molded to the sleek, nicely defined chest he'd noticed the moment Potter had ventured into the club, (not that he'd known it was Potter; that was a pleasant surprise) sliding his hands hungrily up golden-tinted flesh, drawing a low, rumbling moan from the lips beneath his.

Draco had gone out that night, desperate to ease the aching need that had slowly built over the course of the day, the kind of hunger that only another hot, fit body could slake, but had quickly grown disenchanted with the limited pickings. Not that there was anything overtly wrong with the club's offerings – they were in fact, quite striking – but the prey surrounding him were far too easily persuaded by his ample charms and fell too readily to his whims.

It made the hunt boring, mundane, when the chosen didn't run; or at the very least put up a token resistance. He wanted a challenge; someone who would look him in the eye defiantly and sneer at his efforts, teasing and denying him his desires until the very last moment, when they would surrender ever-so-sweetly. Only then would the prize be worthy.

That's when he had entered, and instantly, the air charged, making the fine hairs on his nape and arms stand on end.

Casting a lazy eye over to the door, he jolted when that whipcord body maneuvered its way through the crowd, pulling up a stool at the bar and waved his hand casually, attempting to get the barkeep's attention. Licking his lips slowly, he drew away from the insipid, little blond, playing so desperately for his interest and glided closer, keeping bodies between himself and the raven beauty in order to study him fully – it wouldn't do to alert the quarry of his imminent downfall, after all.

Letting his eyes travel the fit, compact form languidly as the man leaned into the bar, he lingered on the tight, muscled arse, lovingly hugged by snug, black leather and, undignified as it was, nearly drooled at the sight. Visions of that gorgeous arse arching beneath him as he slid his cock into the owner's waiting, snug sheath, made his cock stiffen painfully and ripped a groan of pure, unadulterated lust from his throat. Raising his gaze, it momentarily clashed with bright, truculent eyes and he sucked in a breath of genuine excitement.

Oh, yes, this one would fight him; deliciously so.

Drawing back into the shadows, Draco watched as the beauty flicked his eyes away dismissively, and it only made him covet the man even more. This one blatantly challenged him, not only with his presence, but also with his cool, uninterested smile. He might have felt offended by the blatant dismissal, if it weren't for the faint tremor that shook the brunet's body when their eyes first clashed, followed by a subtle shifting in his seat, which told him that the other man was affected much more than he wanted to let on. And Draco knew then he had to possess him.

Challenge set; challenge met. By the end of the night, the raven would be his.

What came next, had been a delicious game of cat and mouse, his raven beauty staying just a step or two ahead of him as he stalked him across the floor; and while he wasn't a patient man typically, in this he had been willing to take his time. The prize was worthy of his patience and he had no doubt that he would eventually run the man down, wrapping him in the slow, intricate web he was spinning. Plus the prolonged hunt ignited the the smoldering burn in the bit of his stomach, fanning it into an achingly sweet inferno just waiting to be unleashed on its chosen prey.

That his chosen ended up being Potter had only made the conquest sweeter.

Pulling away from that addictive mouth, he latched onto Potter's slightly damp throat, his teeth scraping over the salty skin and smirked when the brunet arched his neck, pressing it harder against his mouth as he whimpered quietly in need. Deftly walking the heavenly feast back against his bed, Draco removed his mouth from that long, slim column when he all but tore the shirt from Potter's body.

Toppling the other man down onto his bed, he stood above him, taking in his fill of thin, corded limbs. The brunet looked positively sinful splayed across his black, silk sheets, Potter's ruffled hair blending beautifully with the material as red, kiss-swollen lips parted and electric green eyes burned with desire. Delectable. Tearing off his own shirt, the buttons flying to the four corners of the room, he dropped it to the floor and kicked off his shoes before kneeling on the edge of the bed. Licking his lips, he crawled up Potter's body, sliding his hands over leather clad legs, parting them slightly, and cupped that exquisite arse and yanked, bringing their cocks together.

Groaning as they slid together, Draco skated his hands over Potters hips and all that pale, bared skin as he sunk down, capturing the other man's mouth in a heated kiss that left his head reeling. Frotting against him, Draco hissed when nails bit into his skin, raking down his back, and likely leaving long, red gouges in their wake as Potter cupped his arse and arched, grinding their erections together in an effort to get more friction. So lovely...he had known his quarry would never lie beneath him passively.

Tearing his mouth away from Potter's, Draco trailed hot, wet, biting kisses down his neck, sucking the rapidly thrumming pulse into his mouth and bit down sharply, marking Potter, drawing a startled cry from his prey. Laving his tongue over the tender, rapidly purpling skin, he smirked when Potter's breath hitched sharply and set about systematically claiming the taut body beneath his with lips, tongue, teeth and nails, marking his quarry with all the pent up, boyish desire that had haunted him during their Hogwarts days.

There was nothing more aggravating, facing your schoolyard nemesis, torn between wanting nothing more than to throttle the boy for his self-righteous views and actions, and wanting to pin them down and fuck him into the floor. Potter had always been far too lovely for either of their own good.

Grabbing his wand, he gave an impatient flick of his hand, spelling off their clothing, but not vanishing them completely, as he had every intentions of seeing that perfect arse molded in snug, black leather again; he really needed to thank whomever had talked Potter into that purchase. Staring down into green eyes, hazy with lust, and just a touch of wariness, he smiled predaciously, enjoying that subtle flash of apprehension.

Usually, he'd take his time unwrapping his chosen mark, unveiling each part one inch at a time, preferring to tease them senseless, but this moment had been years in the making and he couldn't contain his growing excitement. Besides, everything between he and Potter had always been violently passionate. And the man did whimper so prettily in the back of his throat when faced with whatever he'd uncovered in Draco's eyes, further inflaming his senses.

Pressing their bodies together, he groaned harshly, the air ripped from his lungs as their cocks slid along one another almost painfully, only a fine sheen of sweat and pre-come easing the abrasive friction between the two of them, and delighted in the strangled moan that slipped past the raven's lips as he captured them. The feeling of all that hot, slick flesh drove him crazy, catching every cell aflame, spilling desire into his veins like a molten river. It was just like he'd always envisioned between him and Potter – a spitting, biting, scratching, grappling bid for dominance.

Which made the other man's concession like honey on his tongue.

"Can't..." the brunet gasped, ferociously sinking his teeth into Draco's bottom lip, drawing blood and making him yelp indignantly. Smirking, Potter raked his hands over his torso, the callused tips of his fingers biting as he arched, the heavy press of cock to cock nearly incapacitating Draco as the brunet rasped sexily against his ear. "Can't wait to have your cock inside me."

The words were a sucker punch to the gut, rendering Draco completely speechless as he'd expected a bit more of a struggle; but he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin for no reason and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rolling his hips against the smirking man underneath him, a flash of triumph rippled across his nerves when Potter cried out, the smirk melting away as he bucked his hips helplessly, seeking more friction.

"Never took you for a bottom boy, Potty," he taunted gleefully, sinking his teeth into pink nipple as he bit his way down Potter's chest, almost losing himself in the taste (salt and sunshine), texture (satin) and smell (musk with a hint of apples and wood) of his skin.

"Don't get...fuck...don't get too excited, Ferret," the brunet rasped, his fingers sinking into pale, blond hair and twisting, clutching helplessly as Draco licked a strip down the faint trail leading to his groin. "I don't bottom exclusively."

Using the grip on his hair, Potter tugged Draco up his body and leaned up, sealing their mouths together in a fervid kiss that sent his head swimming and his toes curling, allowing Potter the upper hand as he wrapped and arm around Draco's waist and rolled them over, straddling his waist. No wilting flower or passive kitten this one – he gave his all and took as much as he gave.

"I just really want cock tonight," Potter hissed quietly, flicking his tongue over the shell before his teeth sunk into the lobe, his hot breath whispering against his ear as he breathed fervently. " _Your_ cock."

Raking his nails over Draco's chest, Potter licked, sucked and bit a hot trail down it, his hands roaming all over his body voraciously, each touch and kiss branding him as deeply as when he claimed the brunet earlier. Gasping when Potter buried his nose into the coarse, blond curls at the apex of his thighs, he tangled his fingers into the thatch of wild curls Potter called hair, marveling at the silky texture, and tugged, trying to bring him back up his body.

"Filling me," Potter husked breathlessly, stubbornly refusing to relinquish his advantage and dipped his head to give Draco's leaking cock an experimental swipe of tongue. "Bringing that delicious burn."

Potter licked a long, wet stripe up his aching cock, stealing the breath from his lungs and chuckled when Draco's hips bucked reflexively; holding them still, he dipped his head again to brush a soft kiss on the crown, swirling his far too talented tongue over it and sucked it into his hot, moist mouth. Fuck, he had to find a way to halt this or it would be over before he even had a chance to sink balls deep into the perfectly formed arse that had him drooling all night.

"Stretching..." Potter breathed, sliding his hands over Draco's torso to tweak his nipples sharply, making Draco swear under his breath and scrabble at his shoulders as the brunet watched the flesh flush and peak temptingly. "Stretching me so full, I'm nearly coming from that alone."

Using Potter's momentary distraction against him, Draco flipped out from under him, grabbing the brunet around the waist and manhandled him onto his hands and knees; gliding his hands up his back, he molded himself to the slightly smaller man's body and slid his cock between Potter's thighs as he sunk his teeth into the crook of his neck, delighting in the heated moan the rumbled through the body beneath him.

"On your hands and knees, Potty," he taunted softly, relishing in the subtle bucking of hips that tried to dislodge him, but stilled when he thrust his pelvis softly, rubbing his cock against Potter's crack. Sliding one hand down his back, he traced a finger between the globes of Potter's arse, teasing the furled, pink hole and inhaled sharply when it met with slick, already stretched flesh, and growled appreciatively. "Dirty, little slut. Always figured you for a closet cock whore."

"Nothing in the closet about this, Malfoy," Potter grit between his teeth, arching his arse tauntingly, rubbing it teasingly against his cock while seeking more of Draco's probing fingers, choking back a whimper when he slid a single digit into that slicked, warm hole. "Now shut up and fuck me."

"If you insist..." he whispered, sliding a second finger in and pumping, circling and scissoring them to stretch him further, groaning when Potter's hips arched enticingly, a loud cry bubbling over his lips as his fingers scraped over that bundle of nerves.

Making quick work of stretching him, going up to three fingers as he rendered the man beneath him into a shivering, mewling mess, he slicked his cock, biting his lip to keep from whimpering and lined himself up at Potter's entrance, whispering fervently against his ear.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for a week."

"Then stop prattling about it and do it..." Potter challenged, his words cut off by a gasp as Draco slid in, driving himself into that tight heat with one, smooth thrust, leaving the man beneath him trembling. "Oh fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Gods," Draco gasped, clenching his eyes shut as the tight, hot sheath clamped around him reflexively at the unexpected intrusion. Panting softly, he froze, holding himself almost deathly still as he waited for Potter to adjust and for himself to gain a measure of control. "So tight..."

Pressing a kiss against the sweaty nape of Potter's neck, he rubbed his back and sides soothingly, passing over the skin in light, teasing strokes, stoking the smoldering fire beneath it as he uncharacteristically whispered, "You okay?"

"Fine," Potter nodded, squirming deliciously under his hands and then arched his arse in invitation, impaling himself impossibly further on Draco's cock, drawing a long, rumbling moan from the back of his throat as the brunet demanded. "Fuck me, Malfoy...if you can."

"You'll pay for that, Potter," he growled, pulling back slowly until only an inch was sheathed, drawing the feeling out and the snapped his hips forward, slamming back into that tight heat, dragging another inarticulate cry from Potter. Smiling smugly when the man continued to whimper and rocked helplessly on Draco's cock, he experimented with angles until he found one that made the raven buckle with a keening cry. Clenching Potter's hips, he set a fast, driving, almost brutal pace, each whimper and cry from Potter fueling his own pleasure, lust singing through his veins like liquid fire.

Digging his fingers into Potter's skin, he moaned as the man began to shiver and tremble, signaling his impending climax and he sped up his thrusts, angling his cock so that it dragged over Potter's prostate, and gasped when the brunet cried out, his muscles clamping as he came with shuddering intensity, calling out Draco's name.

Biting his lip, he thrust a few more times, his strokes choppy and shallow, before own orgasm washed over him, exploding with an intensity he'd never felt before, his sight whiting out as wave after wave flooded him. Crying out, his eyes fluttered shut as he tensed, suspending over Potter's back as it drew out and then sunk bonelessly against it, breathing heavily. They lay like that for a few moments while catching their breaths, and then, with a whimper of discontent, Draco slid out of Potter, falling to the bed on his back, staring at that gorgeous, curled up figure in awe.

"Fuck," Potter muttered, uncurling himself and stretching his limbs out, falling next to him in a sated heap, the satisfied grin on his face belying the heated glare he tossed Draco's way. "I'm not going to be able to sit tomorrow, you bastard."

"That's what you get for being an insufferable tease tonight," he smirked, smoothing the thick black curls back from his boyfriend of two years face as he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Hey," Harry protested softly, tangling their fingers together as he tipped his head and captured Draco's lips in a chaste kiss. "Let me remind you that this was _your_ game. _I_ was just playing along. Personally, I would have preferred staying home and fucking each others brains out, but _you_ wanted a chase. So I made damned sure you got your money's worth."

"It _was_ quite good," he hummed, smirking at the pouting brunet, stealing yet another kiss from those sardonic lips. "You almost had even me convinced with that reluctant victim act. You've gotten far too good at that."

"Glad I could satisfy your deviant streak," Harry rasped dryly, getting up with only the tiniest wince and walking towards the bathroom to wash up Draco presumed.

"And _don't_ think I didn't notice you lusting after that Weasley look alike," he called out, his tone faintly barbed as he recalled how his lover's eyes had hooded and he'd licked his lips as if picturing bedding the redheaded tramp.

"Like you weren't drooling yourself," Harry snorted, his voice echoing slightly within the confines of the bathroom. "I know better."

"Whatever," he groused, refusing to acknowledge the brunet's observation, even if it was the truth. He had to admit that he'd wanked a time or two after seeing the long-haired Weasley, but he'd deny it until he was blue in the face if someone were to call him on it. Then again, perhaps he could talk Harry into getting a couple of Weasley's hairs and having themselves a polyjuice night. "Just remember you're _mine_ and there will be no more than lusting involved."

"As if I could ever forget," Harry snickered softly, coming out of their bathroom and flicking a hand over the sheets to clean them, then used the same charm on Draco, eliciting a a small frisson of desire in the blond; he loved when Harry manipulated his magic that way. Opening his eyes when he felt lips on his, he responded in kind, enjoying the slow, sweet kiss as Harry whispered softly against his mouth. "Possessive prat. Next time, it's my turn."

"I look forward to whatever your warped Gryffindor brain dreams up," he replied, already anticipating this lover's next game, knowing that whatever it was, he'd enjoy it immensely.

"You still have your Slytherin Quidditch uniform, yeah?" Harry asked, a heated sparkle lighting his eyes and a deliciously wicked smile spreading across his face as he stared at Draco.

And he couldn't help but whimper helplessly under those devilishly glinting eyes, lust spiking through his system at the visuals that comment produced and thanked the stars once more for his gorgeous, adventurous Gryffindor lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet inspired by Sleep Together by Garbage. Draco POV.


	5. If You're Not The One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry knows that he and Draco had never made any promises to each other, yet the news in the paper slices his heart nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of three connecting vignettes.

**If You're Not The One**

Harry stared at the Prophet, his heart clenching as the he read the headline; he had been expecting this any day given the whispers through the Ministry and through Diagon Alley, but part of him had been hoping that the rumors were wrong as rumors often were, but looking at the smiling face on its pages, he couldn't deny it any further. Draco was engaged to Astoria Greengrass, the potential perfect pureblood wife. Drawing a shaky breath, he traced the lines of that beloved face, his heart hitching as bright gray eyes turned to him, a flash of sadness filling their depths for one brief moment before he winked at Harry and turned away to face with whomever he was speaking to.

Really, he didn't know why he was so surprised or heartbroken to see Draco standing next to someone else, announcing his impending marriage. It wasn't as if they had made any promises to each other and they certainly hadn't seen much of each other since they had left school after their repeated seventh year. No one had even known they were a couple, so why had he expected that Draco would feel the same as he?

Balling the paper up, he tossed it in the trash, his breath hitching painfully in his chest as he stared out the window blankly, stubbornly refusing to give into the burn of tears in the back of his eyes. He hated crying and he didn't think that a broken heart based on dreams that neither party had actually spoken aloud was a good enough reason to give into them now. After all, he had no reason to expect a continuation of their short, albeit passionate, liaison.

But he _had_ hoped nonetheless; setting himself up for disappointment once again.

He'd never expected to fall in love with his ex-nemesis, but he couldn't help but admire the way Draco had refused to be bowed by public sentiment of his family, and freely admitted to his mistakes as a child under the influence of a madman and set about making amends, trying to become a better man. One that his descendents could be proud of; and when he stepped off the train, head raised proudly, but not arrogantly so, Harry had made his way across the platform and held out his hand, asking for a truce, hoping they could work together civilly.

It had become so much more, not that anyone ever saw that part of their relationship. And although he had acknowledged how attractive Draco was that first day, he'd still been taken by surprise when the friendship had morphed into something resembling love.

They had fought it at first, ignoring the growing attraction between them, both fearful that it would ruin the tentative friendship they had built, but as things have a way of doing, it came to a head one night. Harry had been out wandering, unable to sleep after a particularly vivid dream about the boy he had been avoiding the past few days, trying to wrap his head around the growing feelings for the blond, only to run into the focus of his thoughts. Literally.

_Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair, even as he kept the invisibility cloak wrapped around it, not wanting to run into anyone despite the fact he was allowed to roam the halls as he chose being of age and not really part of the regular curriculum. He had never felt so confused in his life. He knew what he was experiencing, but he'd never dreamed that he'd feel it for a boy, and Draco Malfoy in particular. It didn't make sense._

_He kept his eyes trained on the ground, a hazard he was sure as he wouldn't see anyone coming, but he wasn't really wasn't expecting to run into anyone this late at night anyway. Few people roamed the halls at this time and he was safely under his cloak, which is why it was a shock when he impacted with something warm and solid in his path. Gasping softly as the wind was knocked out of him, he stumbled and fell onto his back, luckily still covered by his cloak. Raising his eyes, his breath hitched when they met briefly with silver as they swept the corridor, Draco's wand snapped in front of him, sweeping in an arc as he searched for his 'assailant.'_

_"Who...who's there?" the blond bit out, his eyes darting through the seemingly empty space surrounding him, his lips compressed into a thin, white line. "Come out, whoever you are. I know you're there and I won't hesitate to curse you into next week if you don't show your face."_

_"Shhhh..." Harry hissed, pulling the cloak from his head as he stood, dusting himself off in an effort to get his heartbeat under control. The last thing he needed was to be faced with the star of his very heated, very erotic dreams whilst utterly confused about what to do about him. "For Merlin's sake, you'll wake the whole bloody castle and I'd prefer not to have McGonagall rushing to your defense thinking that you're being assaulted by an intruder."_

_"Harry?" Draco queried softly, dropping his wand slightly, but still studying him suspiciously._

_"Yes, it's me," Harry replied shortly, walking towards the taller blonde, only to find himself at wand point once more._

_"How do I know it's really you?" Draco asked doubtfully, keeping a healthy distance between them. "For all I know, you could have somehow gotten your hands on Potter's hair and cloak and polyjuiced yourself into him, just waiting for me to drop my guard so you can attack me."_

_"Oh for...you are so damned paranoid sometimes," Harry groused, running a hand through his hair impatiently. "Fine, in first year, you caught me, Ron and Hermione out past curfew; we were out there helping Hagrid and Charlie Weasley remove a baby dragon from the premises after Hagrid had hatched it from an egg given to him by Quirrell. In second year, Ron and I polyjuiced ourselves into Crabbe and Goyle in order to sneak into the Slytherin common room to find out what you knew about the Heir of Slytherin; Hermione was supposed to join us, but she accidentally polyjuiced herself into Bulstrode's cat. In third year..."_

_"Enough, enough..." Draco waved his hand, storing his wand away as the stories confirmed Harry's identity; all stories Harry had shared with him at some point but for which only a handful knew the actual details. "I believe you."_

_"So glad I could ease your mind," Harry deadpanned, shrinking his cloak and storing it in his pocket as the blond walked closer, his stomach flipping over at the soft scent of citrus and cedar washing over his senses as Draco drew abreast of him._

_"You're out late," Draco commented rhetorically, leaning against the wall in front of Harry, his features visibly softening as he studied the fidgeting brunet. "Couldn't sleep?"_

_"Uh...n-no..." Harry stammered, his cheeks flushing as he recalled just what had driven him from his bed, and his body heated, the suppressed lust from earlier curling low in his gut and spreading out in thin tendrils through his body, making him all too aware of the boy in front of him. "No, I couldn't."_

_"Nightmares?" Draco gently asked, moving forward to tuck a strand of raven hair behind Harry's ear, eliciting a frisson anxiety and excitement that spiraled across Harry's nerves. Was he even aware of what he was doing to him?_

_"Not...exactly," Harry replied, refusing to elaborate even when the blond arched a brow and he squirmed under that probing gaze, but Draco only nodded and dropped the subject, obviously sensing Harry's reluctance to discuss his dreams._

_"I haven't seen you in a few days," Draco commented softly, a shard of hurt and bewilderment coloring his tone despite his cool countenance and he bit his lip, frowning slightly as he met Harry's eyes questioningly. Most people would look at him and see someone unaffected by the absence, but Harry had gotten to know him so well, he could see the hint of insecurity lurking behind that unconcerned mask and instantly felt bad._

_"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, giving the other boy a weak smile as he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. He hadn't really been prepared to address this right now, but he also hadn't meant to hurt Draco with his absence. "I just needed some time to think."_

_"About?" Draco closed the distance between them, standing just inches from Harry, sending his heart racing madly. Tipping his head back, he silently studied the other boy for a long moment, internally debating the pros and cons of admitting what had been preying on his mind when he swore he saw a familiar emotion flicker in Draco's eyes and he came to the decision to just go for it._

_He hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing._

_"You," Harry murmured breathlessly, dropping his eyes to his toes and a delicate pink suffused his cheeks as Draco's breath hitched at his confession._

_"Me," Draco replied, a faint question at the end of the statement. Harry shifted uneasily, keeping his gaze averted even as Draco sought it, reaching out a hesitant hand to slide his fingers under Harry's chin and tipped his head back. "Harry?"_

_Harry raised his eyes, his breath catching when silver seemed to blaze with an inner heat that tripled Harry's heartbeat and he licked his lips nervously, his lashes fluttering shut as Draco's head dipped and soft lips brushed softly over his._

Touching his mouth gently, Harry closed his eyes, his stomach swirling sickly as he thought of someone else kissing those sinfully soft lips, his lips burning at the memory of their first kiss. He swayed slightly, his knees weakening and he caught himself on the edge of the table, turning his eyes away from the rubbish bin. It had been just as much his fault that nothing went beyond that year. He had remained silent about his growing feelings, hoping that Draco would give some indication of his own, but nothing ever came of it and they went their separate ways.

He couldn't help but wonder, if he had been just a bit stronger, if he had said something, would he be standing here cold and alone while Draco moved on with his life or would Draco be sitting at his table, smiling lazily as Harry prepared a late breakfast.

Sighing heavily, he reached back into the rubbish bin and pulled out the parchment he'd just tossed in there and smoothed it out, looking at Draco's face somberly. Reaching out a trembling finger, he traced those impossibly silken lips and let out a watery chuckle as picture Draco preened under the touch, his eyes tearing as he set the Prophet aside and walked away, his heart an open wound as he got ready for the day.

... ... ... 

Harry stared at the creamy envelope in his shaky fingers, his heart racing with both anticipation and dread as he recognized the elegant script flowing across the sumptuous parchment and instinctively knew that whatever Draco had written would simultaneously bring him joy and break his heart. Tracing the cultured curls and strokes of green ink, he recalled how Draco favored that particular color above all others in eighth year, not because of his House as many thought but because it reminded him of Harry's eyes. He smiled softly at the memory and flipped it over, taking in the Malfoy crest and steeled himself, telling himself to just get on with it already.

Sliding his finger under the flap, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment with a deep breath, his eyes scanning the script quickly before his eyes dropped closed and the paper fluttered out of his fingers, tears prickling in the backs of his eyes. He had been right, the words had made him glow inwardly, but at the same time his heart shattered.

Inhaling sharply, he fought back the tears threatening to fall and stooped, scooping up the letter and staggered back, sitting heavily in the chair behind him. Bringing it in view, Harry dropped his head in his hand and read the letter again, a bit slower this time, wondering just how he was going to deal with Draco's request.

_Dear Harry,_

_It's been a while since we've seen each other, but you've been in my thoughts lately. I wanted to see if you had the time to meet up for a drink and to catch up. I miss talking to you and few of my other friends really understand where I am coming from these days._

_As you've probably read, I'm engaged. Father negotiated a contract with the Greengrass family and it seems that Daphne's little sister Astoria is to be my wife. It's not a love match, but I really didn't expect to marry for love given the history of arranged marriages in my family. But my parents were reasonably happy together, and I hope that Astoria and I will eventually find a measure of comfort, if not love, in each other._

_Harry, you were the first person I thought of when my father told me about the contract, for multiple reasons, but the reason for this missive is, I'd really like it if you would stand up for me. In that last year, you truly became my best friend and I can't imagine having anyone else at my side._

_Please let me know if you have the time to meet and perhaps honor my request._

_Faithfully Yours,_

_Draco_

Harry clenched his eyes, pressing his hand against them as his other hand dropped in defeat, taking the letter with it, lying limply against his side. Rubbing his hand over his face to soothe the ache building behind his eyes, he sat back and stared out at his living room blankly, his mind whirling. On the one hand, hearing that Draco had been thinking of him and considered him to be the only one to stand by his side filled him with happiness, but the reason behind the letter sliced through him like a knife.

Clenching his hand into a fist, he really wished he could be the bigger person and readily agree to standing by Draco's side as he took his vows with Astoria, but Harry didn't think he would be able to do it without wanting to interfere and protest the union no matter the promise he made Draco to always stand by his side.

_"Harry?" Draco whispered into the dark, his chin resting on Harry's chest as they laid, curled up on a couch in the room of requirement, both staring at the crackling fire lazily, drowning in contented bliss after having made love for the first time._

_"Hmmm?" he hummed quietly, his lashes drooping as a dreamy lethargy settling into his bones and he lazily dragged his fingers through fine, golden hair._

_"Do you ever wonder what's after this?" Draco asked, tracing abstract patterns over Harry's chest as he flicked his eyes up to the brunet, catching hazy green eyes as Harry opened his eyes slowly._

_"Sometimes," Harry carefully replied, waking up a degree at the question._

_"You think we'll still be...friends after the year ends," Draco asked, his tone carefully blank as if he was shielding against a potential massive disappointment._

_"Of course," Harry replied, his brow furrowing as his hazy brain tried to make sense of Draco's question and wondering at what he wasn't saying with that statement. Sometimes, he felt as if Draco was speaking in a code he couldn't decipher. "I don't plan on going back to...strangers. Unless you want to?"_

_"No, of course I don't want that," Draco reassured hastily, kissing Harry softly on the chest before he lapsed into silence._

_Harry laid there, his mind frantically going over the conversation, sensing he had missed something important in that exchange, but unable to muddle through it in his current state of mind. Of course he still planned to be with Draco; he wouldn't give up his virginity to just anyone, but he couldn't help but wonder if they were assuming the same things, but he was hesitant to ask the blond to clarify._

_"Harry?" Draco asked again._

_"Yes?" he replied quietly._

_"No matter what happens," Draco responded, bracing himself on his hands to look down into Harry's eyes, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. "Promise me you'll always be here."_

_"You know I can't make that promise," Harry sighed, wanting to make the promise outright, but experience had taught him that life was far too uncertain to making such blanket assurances. "There may be things beyond my control..."_

_"Promise me that you'll be here if you can," Draco interrupted, taking his hand in his and squeezing it gently as he placed a small kiss to the knuckles._

_"Of course, if I can at all possibly be there," Harry promised, drawing their clasped hands to his lips a brushing a kiss against Draco's knuckles in response, thinking that he understood what Draco was asking. "I would stand by your side always if I had anything to say about it."_

He fervently wished he had pushed through his drowsiness that night; that he had pursued and clarified Draco's meaning and that he made sure they had been on the same page rather than leave in a cloud of uncertainty when they left school and then drifted with the occasional letter and meeting. He had been so hopeful the first time they had met up again a few days after they left, only to be faced with a contained Draco that sat across from him and kept things on a friendly, but cooler note.

It had broken his heart, but he kept that to himself and kept the meeting on the amicable note that the blond had set and promised himself that he wouldn't push Draco for more than he obviously wanted.

Rising unsteadily, he made his way over to his desk and sat down, pulling out some ink and parchment, and stared at it for a long moment as he pulled together his thoughts. He had promised to stand by Draco, but he just couldn't stand by and watch him marry another. He was afraid of what he might do or say when faced with the actual event.

Drawing a shaky breath, he wrote a light note congratulating him on his impending marriage and offered up his regrets at being unable to stand up for him, siting work obligations even as it was tearing him apart inside, and sealed it, sending it off with a heavy heart, knowing that this would hurt the blond but more concerned about how badly he might hurt him pulling out at the last minute.

... ... ... 

Laughing at something Ron said, Harry turned his head to the left, freezing in his tracks, the sound dying on his lips as he spied the very person he had been trying to avoid thinking about and it was a sucker punch to the gut, ripping the air from his lungs. Draco was a ways in the distance, a gentle smile on his face as he looked into the pretty one beaming up at him.

Swallowing thickly, he ripped his gaze away, the strength sapping from his muscles as he fruitlessly blinked back the haze of tears that pricked at the back of his eyes; closing them, he swayed slightly, oblivious to the concerned chattering at his side. He had obviously been aware that they were together, but being faced with the reality of it was another thing. It was far too easy to lie to oneself when it was a nebulous rumor or abstract event, but when it smacked you in the face, there was nowhere to hide.

Turning back to Draco, he inhaled shakily, his heart thudding painfully as he noted the changes in his appearance. His hair was longer, touching his shoulders and looked as silky and soft as when he used to run his fingers through it; and his face and body had filled out, losing that pinched, wan look, softening those sharp edges. He was still heartbreakingly beautiful; and the sight of him sent Harry's heart and stomach fluttering in tandem, leaving him breathless and lightheaded. It didn't seem fair that the blond still had this affect on him when he had so obviously moved on.

Watching silently as Draco dipped his head and pressed a laughing kiss to his pretty bride's cheek , Harry's heart seized, pain sluicing through his chest in a sharp, cold wave, leaving him bleeding and broken inside, the last strings of hope snapping audibly as Draco and Astoria entered a shop known for their wedding robes.

He remembered all too well when he had been on the other end of those soft looks and gentle kisses.

_Harry tugged at his hair absently as he tried to make sense of the text in front of him, thankful that the 'eighth-year' boys dorm was silent for once. He really needed to get this information down before Thursday as they had an important practical and theory exam in Potions that Friday. And now that he didn't have the Prince's book, lost in the fire that gutted the Room of Hidden Things, he had to work three times as hard to understand and retain the material. Of course, it didn't help that according to Snape's notes, none of the recipes were accurate in the written text._

_"Potions, Potter?" a drawling voice whispered near his ear, startling him out of his thoughts and his eyes flicked up in surprise to find Draco sitting on the bed next to him. He hadn't even heard the other boy's arrival. "I expected you to be out on the pitch with the rest of our lot on such a fine day."_

_"Can't," he groused, sighing explosively and rubbing his scar absently, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. "We have that test on Friday and I really need to do well. My entrance into the auror program hinges on getting at least an Exceeds in this class, but none of this makes sense to me."_

_"You have always been a mess when it comes to potions; it's a wonder you made it this far without killing us all," Draco teased, the lack of heat in his tone alerting Harry that he wasn't serious in his insult. Smiling wanly at the blond boy, his eyes fluttered shut when Draco dipped down and placed a soft, laughing kiss on his lips._

_Humming with contentment, Harry parted his lips and moaned quietly when a warm, soft tongue slipped between them, stroking languidly along his and bringing with it the taste of oranges, chocolate and something indistinct but uniquely Draco. He was certain he could spend the rest of his life drowning in these honeyed kisses._

_Pulling back, Draco rested his head against Harry's, a soft smile touching his mouth as he brushed a light kiss over Harry's nose, grinning unrepentantly when Harry scrunched it in distaste._

_"Come on, scoot over," Draco said, climbing onto the bed next to Harry, taking the stack of parchment sitting next to him into his lap and looking through them. "Let's see if we can make some sort of logical order of this mess, so that you won't be stuck here for the next lifetime."_

Pressing his lips together, he valiantly fought back his tears, but quickly lost the battle and knew that he had to get out of there before he made a complete fool of himself. All he needed was a picture splashed across the front page of the Prophet, speculating about their crying Savior. He had to leave – go anywhere that didn't ring of Draco and their short-lived relationship. Maybe he'd finally take that break everyone tried to talk him into – leave England for a while. Staring blankly at the blond's departing back, a peculiar numbness washed over him, leaving him sapped of energy as a single tear streaked down his cheek, and utterly gutted that Draco hadn't looked his way even once.

He couldn't do this anymore.

"I have to go," he mumbled, swiping the tear from his cheek, his mind scrambling with what he saw and turning over the idea that had just newly attached itself to his brain, brushing past a protesting Ron and a concerned Hermione.

"Harry, wait," Hermione called, hurrying after him and latching onto his wrist, halting his escape as he couldn't bring himself to hurt his friend even if he felt as if the world had fallen out beneath him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"It's nothing, 'Mione," he rasped, keeping his eyes averted, knowing that if he were to look his friend in the eye, he'd fall apart and she would quickly put the pieces together as she always did. "I just need to take care of something. I'll talk to you guys later, yeah?"

"Don't you lie to me Harry James Potter," Hermione chided, retaining hold on his arm and grabbing his chin in her hand to turn it and force him to meet her eyes. "I know you better than that."

"Hermione, please, just..." he replied brokenly, letting his eyes meet hers and his breath hitched painfully when he heard her gasp softly, a calculating gleam filling those gentle brown eyes as she looked between him and the shop where Draco had disappeared. "Not now okay? Please, 'Mione, not now. I have to..."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes flashing with concern and sympathy for her friend as she worked the problem out in her far too agile and perceptive mind.

"What?' Ron asked as he watched the two of them, his confused blue gaze dancing between his girlfriend and best friend curiously, and completely oblivious to the undercurrents as always, huffed when Hermione waved the question off.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked, looking slightly hurt that Harry hadn't confided in her as he usually did.

"I didn't know what to say," Harry replied quietly, a dull ache resounding in his heart as he flicked a nervous glance towards the wedding shop, desperately wanting to leave before Draco and Astoria emerged and he was forced to exchange pleasantries with the man he loved and the woman who replaced him. "You were busy and it wasn't like we said anything to anyone. It was a secret."

"Told us what?" Ron asked in exasperation, frowning when Hermione continued to ignore him in favor of studying Harry. "What was a secret?"

"Not now, Ron," Hermione groused, flicking him an impatient moue, which caused the redhead frown to deepen and he flounced off, muttering something about visiting George. Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned back to Harry. "You know I wouldn't have said anything."

"I know but..." Harry trailed off, a sense of panic feeling his heart the more time ticked away and he flicked another distressed glance at the shop. "Please not now, 'Mione. I don't want to...I can't be here when..."

"Okay," Hermione replied softly, running a soothing hand over his arm and bit her lip before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "We'll talk later okay? I'll come over and make dinner; you can tell me all about it then."

"Yeah, okay," he replied, relieved that she wasn't going to force an answer out of him then and there as she would have two years ago; but then again, they'd all changed since the war.

"And don't worry," she smiled wearily, flicking a glance into the direction her boyfriend had stomped off. "I'll deal with Ron so you don't have to listen to him."

"Thanks, 'Mione," he replied, smiling weakly as he bussed her cheek and then turned, heading away from the busy center of the alley, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check.

Walking swiftly towards the Apparation point, he turned around and stared at the alley one last time, a bittersweet ache filling his heart as he realized what he had to do if he were to find any sense of peace. Looking back at the robe shop, he swore he saw a flash of pale blond hair in the window, staring out at him, but figured it was a figment of his imagination. Wishful thinking. Blowing a kiss towards the shop, he mentally whispered 'goodbye' and spun on his heel, apparating away, taking himself to the Ministry of Magic to resign his spot in the auror program.

... ... ... 

"Winky," Harry called as he did a walk through of his house, making a mental list of everything that still needed to be done before he left and sighed, running a weary hand through his already mussed curls. He hadn't realize just how much work went into closing up a household for an extended period of time until he was faced with it, but knew that in the end, the snap decision he'd made just two weeks ago was well worth it.

After he left Diagon, he went straight to the aurors office to inform Gwaine that he was resigning his post, siting personal reasons. Unfortunately, what he hadn't counted on, was Kingsley, the newly elected Minister of Magic, had already being there going over some of the new security measures the Ministry was implementing in the wake of Voldemort – periodical, random checks for imperious or other compulsions on personnel, Veritaserum testing on potential employees for sensitive positions and a deeper monitoring of every department.

To say that neither were happy with Harry's decision was a vast understatement. Gwaine was disappointed, having frequently stated that Harry was the most promising of his recruits, but Kingsley was upset and worried, having spent countless hours discussing the auror corps with Harry and he knew how much Harry had wanted to be a part of it. So, he was well aware that it had to take something drastic for Harry to suddenly change his mind and resign his position.

It had taken him an hour to make it known that he was very serious about his decision and no amount of arguing or offers to sweeten the pot would change his mind. He needed a break. Which is when Kingsley eyed him shrewdly and made a counter offer. He had been screening and interviewing various employees to act as diplomats to various countries, and rather than take a full resignation, offered him one of the diplomat spots, in the country of his choosing.

Harry had been extremely doubtful of the offer, to say the least. He wasn't known for his patience or his even temper and was certain he'd make a hash of it. But Kingsley quickly pointed out his work instructing the DA plus his running of the Order of the Phoenix after Dumbledore's death made him more than qualified, as it took great strength of character and patience to get so many different factions and personalities to gather and cooperate peacefully.

He still had his doubts, feeling it was actually more Hermione that kept them all together, but accepted the position nonetheless as it meant a two-year stint in a country that didn't remind him of Draco at every turn.

"Master Harry?" Winky called softly, alerting Harry that she'd been trying to get his attention for some time while he'd been lost in his thoughts.

"Sorry, Winky," he replied, shaking off the pensive feeling that had settled on him and turning to the room. "Got lost in my thoughts. Okay, for this room, I want all of the furniture covered with dust cloths and the trinkets on on the mantel need to be packed into boxes and set in the attic. The pictures should be wrapped and packed into the green trunk; and all the books on the table, with the exception of the two on Italy, need to be returned to Hermione."

"Yes, Master Harry," Winky nodded emphatically, setting to work packing the photos carefully into the trunk, which popped into existence out of thin air. "Winky is being doing that now."

Harry smiled and shook his head at the elf's enthusiasm; Hermione had been upset when he bound Winky to him, but even she had to grudgingly admit that Winky was much happier these days and that some elves truly did prefer the life of servitude to being free. Especially ones like Winky that had served a family for decades before being unwillingly displaced.

Walking back into his room, he continued packing his clothing, most of which was brand new as Hermione and Ginny refused to have him show up in ragged robes and less than fine clothing. ('You're representing Britain, after all, Harry, and it won't do to have you looking scruffy and dressed like a street urchin!') He did have to admit that they had a point. He had enough money between the Potter and Black fortunes that he never had to work a day if he chose and there was no reason for him to keep wearing the rags his aunt and uncle had so _lovingly_ bestowed on him.

He was nearly done with the first trunk when he felt his wards ping, stretching a bit before they accepted the person who'd just entered his house with the audible pop of Apparation. Furrowing his brow, he rose to his feet, wondering just who had entered his home without announcing themselves; only a handful or so people were built into the wards for uninhibited entrance and he hadn't been expecting anyone until later that evening for his farewell dinner. Walking towards the door, he froze, the blood icing in his veins before it heated, warming him from the inside out as a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

"Potter?" a low, harassed voice called down the corridor, making Harry clench his eyes and flinched when the annoyance in the tone climbed, sharpening drastically when he questioned Winky. "Where is your master? Well? Why are you still standing there? Go up and get him."

Draco.

"Yes, master, sir," Winky squeaked, and Harry could almost see her wringing her hands nervously, her head bobbing in acknowledgment. "Winky be getting Master Harry. Can Winky be asking master's name?"

"It's not important," Draco cried impatiently, and Harry was once again struck by the sharpness of the tone, but this time he could also detect a note of desperation entwined with it. "Never mind, I'll find him myself."

Harry leaned against the door heavily, his heart thudding in his ears and his stomach churned, leaving him light-headed and disoriented and scrambling for understanding in his chaotic thoughts. He hadn't expected to see him again once he had left Diagon Alley; in fact, he'd avoided any place he thought he might see Draco in the hopes of avoiding the inevitable questions about his leaving the aurors after the Prophet had announced his new position.

"Potter, I know that you're here," Draco called, his heavy steps pounding on the stairs, making Harry's heartbeat triple and he shook himself out of his daze, and entered the hallway, a confused moue pinching his face as he met stormy gray eyes, asking the question preying on his mind.

"Draco, what are you doing here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 of 3.


	6. You're All That I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is stuck between what is expected and what he truly wants...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 of 3

**You're All I Need**

Draco gazed out the window for what seemed like the hundredth time, cool gray eyes seeking out the familiar brown and white feathers of his owl and cursed under his breath when the skies turned up empty once more; he was being obsessive about it and he knew it, but he had sent the owl out hours ago and expected an answer by now. Letting his breath out in an inaudible sigh, he turned back to the chattering women, his face inscrutable and barely bit back a huff of irritation at the endless wedding babble.

He'd known that being the Malfoy heir, he was expected to marry and produce yet another pure-blood heir of his own to make sure his long, prestigious line continued, but he had absolutely no interest in these proceedings; especially as he felt nothing for the pretty brunette at his side. He couldn't muster up even a milligram of excitement for the coming event or even any attraction for the woman who was to be his wife; if anything, it felt like a noose were being tied around his neck, tightening with every passing minute, making it difficult to breathe.

And even if he could muster up some interest in Astoria, or any woman for that matter, it wouldn't have mattered in the end; his bride-to-be would never touch his heart as it had been stolen away long ago by a man with bright, green eyes and a wild thatch of impossible curls.

Sighing, he focused on the conversation swirling around him for a brief moment, sneering internally as they debated, of all things, about the appropriate paper for the invitations; all the while avoiding his mother's far too perceptive gaze. Honestly, who really cared what paper the invitations were printed on? The differences were so subtle, and therefore insignificant, that it made this entire debate pointless. He was tempted to just put his foot down, lean over and select something just so he could be done with this nauseatingly dull topic and dink his tea in peace.

Taking a sip of said tea, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the window, searching the sky for his owl, his heart sinking a little more with every minute that passed without word from Harry. He had written to him, hoping that the other man would consent to stand with him on his wedding day, damning what his parents or friends thought, and was nervous about the lack of response. And truthfully, the place he was offering Harry, wasn't the one he wanted to see him standing; if he could swap Astoria's and Harry's spots, he would be ecstatic...but he still needed an heir and...and Harry couldn't provide that no matter how he wished to bond to the brunet.

He hadn't expected to fall in love with Harry, but there it was – he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the Savior of the Wizarding World. Didn't life suck? He'd been smitten since the moment he'd seen Harry walking down the platform at the start of eighth year, looking hale and hearty, the shadows washed from those captivating eyes and a joyful, carefree smile pasted on pink lips.

_Draco stepped off the train slowly, squaring his shoulders as he saw distrustful, uneasy glances tossed his way and ignored the hostile whispers of others; he honestly hadn't expected to be back here this year given everything he had done prior to and during the war. So, when the letter had come inviting him to complete his interrupted seventh year with others who had missed it, he'd stared at it in utter disbelief. It had taken him a full week to accept that it wasn't a cruel joke and an additional week before he'd decided to accept the opportunity offered by Headmistress McGonagall._

_He knew this would be a challenge, but he was looking forward to it; to having a school year where he could be an ordinary student and not have the unrealistic expectations of his parents, their associates and a complete madman hovering over his head._

_Inhaling deeply, he startled when the murmuring picked up around him, taking on a different note altogether as heads swiveled to something, or someone, located down the platform. Turning his own head out of curiosity, the murmuring and excited whispers made sense – there stood Potter in all his glory, looking like Draco had never seen him before. He stood tall; no more hunching as if waiting for a blow out of no where, and his eyes sparkled with a deep, inner contentment that made something twinge in Draco's gut. His hair, longer than he'd ever worn it, was still messy, but in a sculpted way, the one that most people spent hours to recreate, but he was certain Potter had rolled out of bed that way. And he was wearing clothing that fit him like a glove._

_Draco had to admit that he made for a formidable sight._

_Watching as the Savior (as he'd been dubbed by the Prophet) walked down the platform with his sidekicks, Draco froze, his breath catching in the back of his throat, when those incredible eyes, unhampered by glasses, flicked up and caught his, a slow, sweet smile spreading across those impossibly pink lips. Licking his own nervously, he held Potter's gaze, slightly dazed by its impact and wondered what he'd done to deserve that soft look. Potter had never looked at him with anything other than anger and contempt and he couldn't help but feel alarmed with the change._

_Stepping in front of Draco, Potter nodded to Granger and the Weasel, waving them off with an easy flick of his hand, even as their suspicious gazes darted between him and Potter; well, at least some things had remained the same. Good to know he hadn't stepped into a total alternate universe. Turning back to Potter, he cocked a brow at the genial smile on the brunet's face, all too aware of the breathless anticipation of their classmates as they watched what they likely expected to be another charged confrontation between the two rivals._

_It was a shame they were destined to walk away disappointed; he had mentally made his peace with Potter months ago._

_"Malfoy," Potter greeted, his voice having deepened to a rich baritone in his absence, making a shiver dance down Draco's spine._

_"Potter," he nodded, keeping his voice even and amicable despite the fluttering in his stomach and heart, making breathing slightly difficult._

_"You're looking well," Potter replied, his eyes flicking over Draco, taking in his newly tailored clothing and his complexion, which was still a bit wan after over a year in the Dark Lord's service, but was rapidly improving now that the megalomaniac was dead._

_"As do you," Draco returned politely, a flush coloring his cheeks at Potter's frank appraisal, his mind whirling as he tried to make sense of this meeting, as well as, why those eyes were doing funny things to him after all these years._

_"Well it was about time that I took an interest in my appearance, yeah?" Potter chuckled softly, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief (and wasn't that a far too appealing sight) as he raked a hand through those artfully tousled curls, a glint of emerald peaking coyly through sooty lashes._

_Draco inhaled sharply at the gaze, a frisson of want singing along his nerves as it met with his and he couldn't help but wonder at the surreality of Potter, of all people, possibly flirting with him. Maybe he had woken up in an alternative universe. Licking his lips, he froze when Potter followed the movement with his eyes, unconsciously mimicking the action, and then cleared his throat and met Draco's wide-eyed gaze._

_"Look, what I wanted to talk to you about," Potter continued, fidgeting slightly at Draco's silent perusal. "Is, I'd like it if we could put the past behind us...possibly. Turn over a new leaf, yeah? I know we're both likely to be swamped with studying for NEWTs and...well...I don't know. I guess after everything that happened...I'd hoped..."_

_Merlin, the man really was far too adorable for his own good._

_"Articulate as ever, Potter," he couldn't help but snark, instantly regretting his sharp tongue when Potter's face fell and started to close off. Smiling to soften his words, he held out his hand as he'd done many years before, hoping he wasn't setting himself up for a downfall. "But I happen to agree with your bumbling assessment. Truce?"_

_"Truce," Potter agreed, his smile blinding in its intensity, and shook his hand, filling Draco with an inexplicable hunger._

Mentally shaking himself out of his reverie, his face lit up when he finally spied the animal he'd been desperately searching for, holding up his arm as it flew in, and petting the feathers softly, relinquished it of its burden. Stroking the feathers once last time, he fed it a piece of biscuit before sending it on its way to the owlery. Flipping the letter over, his heart stuttered at the familiar writing and stood, garnering the attention of the women still chattering about wedding plans.

"Pick whatever you like, darling," he said smoothly, not even certain what they were discussing, nor did he care; he had something far more pressing to attend to. Inclining his head courteously at his mother, Astoria and Lady Greengrass, he made his excuses. "I must take care of this, so if you ladies will excuse me. Enjoy the rest of your tea."

Striding away as Astoria and her mother waved him off, he once again avoided observant, ice-blue eyes and headed for his suite, not wanting to share the contents of the missive with anyone, both anticipating and dreading what news it might bring. Locking himself in his rooms, he stared at the parchment, almost reluctant to open it now that it had arrived. Irritated with himself, he huffed and broke the seal, his eyes traveling over the chicken scratch Harry called writing, the hope draining from his eyes.

_Dear Draco,_

_Felicitations on your engagement. Wow, it seems so sudden, but I guess you've likely had this contract signed since birth or something. But if it makes you happy, then I am happy for you._

_It has been a while since we've seen each other, but you know how that goes – auror training, remodeling the house and all those bloody, boring Ministry meetings, conferences and gatherings. Sometimes I feel as if my life is just one big Ministry event. I often feel like I should just give up my home and set up residence in my office with as often as I'm there. I'm sure you've been similarly busy with your potions mastery and impending nuptials...wow. I still can't believe it._

_As for standing up for you, as much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Training has been brutal and I'm often called away unexpectedly, and I'd hate to commit to the event, only to miss it due to circumstances beyond my control._

_Just know, that even if I'm not there physically, I'm always by your side. We'll have to get together soon._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

Closing his eyes, he ignored the burn of tears in his eyes; he'd almost expected this, but it still hurt. Crumpling the letter in his hand, he opened his eyes and threw it into the air, casting an incendio, only feeling faint pang of regret as he watched the parchment ignite and burn to nothing but ashes; much like the way he his heart felt. Stalking over to his desk, he pulled out a decanter of firewhiskey and a tumbler, pouring two fingers worth before slamming it back; attributing the tears falling over his cheeks to the burn of the alcohol and definitely not the pain that lanced his heart from Harry's rejection.

... ... ... 

Draco had seen Harry before the brunet had even registered his presence, too busy laughing at something the Weasel had said and his heart fluttered, torn between joy at seeing that beautiful smile for the first time in weeks and jealousy that it wasn't him standing at his side making him laugh. Clenching his hand into a loose fist, he tore his gaze away and dropped it to Astoria, smiling benignly at her comment, but hadn't the remotest idea of what she'd been talking about as he'd been too caught up in the man just meters away, who had finally turned his way and froze.

Draco couldn't help but feel a bit of vindication as he heard the laugh die on Harry's tongue, still feeling the sting of hurt and rejection, (which is why he'd heaped attention on Astoria; he might have changed in some ways, but he was still a Malfoy), but he couldn't tell what the raven was thinking. Nor could he figure the reason behind that sudden stillness as he kept his eyes firmly latched onto Astoria, fearful that if he'd looked up, he'd see distrust or something equally heartbreaking on the Harry's face.

He'd never bothered to answer Harry's letter, at first too angry and hurt at Harry's refusal and afraid he'd say something he regretted; and then out of shame for letting his temper get the better of him when Harry had only been trying to be considerate to him and what he likely saw as Draco's special day. They had once talked deep into the night about all manner of things, and he knew how seriously Harry took marriage, especially given the almost fairytale example he had in his parents.

Opening the door to the shop, one that Astoria claimed was the only place to get their wedding robes, he pressed a brief, laughing kiss to her cheek, wishing that cheek was just a bit higher, just a bit darker, just a bit rougher, with just a bit of stubble – just a bit more in every way. He knew he was doing the right thing; the continuation of his line was paramount and his place in it had been bred into him from birth, but he couldn't help noticing all the ways Astoria was lacking in comparison to Harry.

Her eyes weren't bright enough, her hair not dark enough, her skin wasn't as golden, her laugh too high and bell like and he immediately felt guilty. He had made his choice, as unhappy as it made him; and as ill-advised as it might be in the long run – no happiness could come of a union when one of it's members was in love with another. But he'd just have to suck it up and make the best of the hand he'd dealt.

Sighing as they entered the cool, dark shop, he stood and looked at the endless rows of robes, done in a traditional blue (tranquility, harmony, trust, unity) and silver (neutrality, encouragement), along with other colors for the less traditional. Turning his head, he spied a deep green robe with golden accents and immediately pictured Harry in them, his breath snagging at the image in his head of Harry walking up the aisle to meet him, linking their hands together and reaching up to brush a light kiss over his lips, whispering his love softly.

Blinking rapidly, he hastily looked away, walking towards the window and stared out blankly, observing as Harry seemed to stare right at him for a moment before tearing his gaze away, brusquely mumbling something to his friends before brushing past them. His heart panged at the distress and confusion etched into the brunet's face, wondering what had Harry so upset before he ruthlessly quashed the thoughts. He had no right wondering anything given it was his own fault that he and Harry stood at this chasm; it had been his own prideful fear that cooled things between them.

_Draco shifted uneasily under the constant barrage of stares of the Leaky's patrons, his face schooled into a cool, bored mask, belying the discomfort he was feeling under those faintly accusatory glares. Sentiment against his family had waned, vastly improved than the time before the public had found out that he and his mother had defied the Dark Lord and helped Harry by not giving him away, but there was still a noticeable chill. And he refused to give into those disapproving looks; he had just as much right to be here and he was damned if they were going to run him off before Harry arrived._

_At the thought of the brunet, his heartbeat sped up, casting a warm glow over it. It had only been a few days since he'd last seen Harry, but he'd missed him terribly. It amazed him just how deeply the other boy had managed to burrow under his skin – he hadn't meant for this to happen, but he couldn't make himself feel bad about fancying the man._

_Scanning the crowd once again, he cast a Tempus, and sighed when only two minutes had crept by since his last casting; still a few minutes before Harry was even due. He almost snorted aloud at his own eagerness, and might have done just that, if it weren't for the fact that it would be undignified and likely to cause comment from someone. He was after all a Malfoy, and even with the tarnish on his name, there was a certain expectation that came with it; and his upbringing wouldn't allow for anything but reserved and refined manners._

_"Draco!" a voice broke through his thoughts, and he lifted his gaze to emerald eyes that always seemed to glow with an inner fire, one that left him breathless and aching. Could this man be any more beautiful? He regretted setting this meeting up in public now that he'd seen Harry, as he knew he couldn't greet Harry as he wanted – by pulling the brunet into his arms and snogging him senseless._

_Instead he nodded and gave the former Gryffindor a cool smile (his first mistake), waiting for Harry to drop into the booth across form him. Merlin it was so good to see him._

_"Harry," he greeted quietly, (his second mistake) amazed that his voice came out so cool and calm given the way his heart pounded in his chest. Harry faltered for a moment, seemingly taken aback at his demeanor and he smiled softly, trying to reassure the the brunet. "I hope you've been well."_

_"I...yeah, I've been fine," Harry replied, a faint frown marring his face and the light in his eyes dimming a touch as he studied Draco, his hand reflexively reaching out for Draco's, making Draco flinch reflexively (his final mistake). Hurt flashed through those impossibly green eyes, dimming their light once more as he pulled away and dropped his hand into his lap. "Just getting the house together and applying for the auror program. And you?"_

_"I'm great Harry; it's wonderful to see you again," he replied, trying to reignite the fire in the brunet's eyes, but the damage had been done. Harry remained friendly, and over all happy to see him, but held a part of himself back and too stuck in the rules that his upbringing thrust upon him, Draco didn't know how to bring that light back._

He'd desperately wanted to reach out that day and kiss Harry, erasing the hurt from his eyes, but wrapped up in the cool, unaffected, defensive mask he'd been projecting to the rest of the room, he'd irrevocably broken something between them that couldn't be fixed, unwittingly setting the tone for subsequent meetings. If he had only relinquished his pride and embraced the offered hand, even now, he might be the one laughing with Harry. But instead the meetings got further apart as he and Harry had gotten involved with their training and Draco felt more and more lost and despondent, latching onto the betrothal with both hands in an effort to fill the hole in his heart.

Looking back to the last place he saw Harry, he was surprised to see the Weasel storming away, heading towards his brother's shop and Harry and Granger speaking in frantic whispers, Harry's face drawn and distressed. Stepping closer, he watched as Granger pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek and said something before Harry turned and walked swiftly away. Once he'd gotten to a safe Apparation point, Harry turned back towards the shop and then brought a hand to his lips, as if blowing Draco a kiss goodbye and then Disapparated on the spot, leaving Draco reeling.

Did Harry still love him?

His heart fluttered at the thought and he felt like the walls were closing in on him, wondering if by signing this betrothal contract, had he'd made the biggest mistake of his life?

... ... ...

Swiping a hand over his face, Draco stared at the table blurrily, his eyes burning with fatigue as he sipped his tea and listlessly picked at his breakfast; he hadn't been able to sleep well since seeing Harry in Diagon Alley, when the brunet had tossed his world into turmoil. It had been nearly two weeks since he swore he saw Harry blow a kiss in his direction and still didn't know what he wanted to do about it. He had signed a contract, binding him to wed Astoria Greengrass in two months time, but given this new information, he wasn't sure that he could go through with it. Not when faced with the possibility that Harry might feel something for him.

Yet at the same time, he was bound; it was imperative that he secure an heir for the future and he had known of this requirement for as long as he had understood the concept of marriage and babies. Pure-blood's rarely married for love; it was all about the correct bloodlines and alliances with a powerful family that would bring honor to the name – if you actually believed if there was any honor left in the wake of the Dark Lord's reign.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, his head already throbbing from the chaotic thoughts spinning in his head and looked up as he heard the post arrive, quickly divesting the owls of their burdens, feeding them a bit of his untouched bacon and then releasing them. Setting aside the personal correspondence (likely all wedding related and he didn't want to think about it), he picked up the Prophet, shaking it open and wondered what rubbish they were printing that day, paling when he caught sight of the headline.

**'Savior resigns auror position; Potter to become Italian Diplomat.'**

"Everything okay, Draco?" his mother queried as she walked in and noted Draco's wan complexion, drawing Draco's unseeing eyes from the paper, where he met a concerned blue gaze. "You look a little peaked."

"Yeah," he breathed before shaking his head and adopting a more formal tone when his mother frowned, mistaking her worry for disapproval at his casual language. "Yes, mother, I am well. Just a bit fatigued as I didn't sleep well last night. I'll go to sleep early tonight and make up for it."

Turning his attention back to the paper, he stared at a smiling Harry, but noted that the smile never reached his eyes, leaving them flat, dull and lifeless rather than the sparkling jewels he was used to and delved into the shocking announcement, his pulse thudding in his temples.

**'Savior resigns auror position; Potter to become Italian Diplomat.'**

_by Shelby Sweetalker_

_In a surprise announcement from the Ministry of Magic, the Prophet has learned that Britain is about to lose its Savior – at least for a couple of years._

_Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, Savior of the Wizarding World, Order of Merlin, First Class recipient, resigned his position in the auror trainee program twelve days ago and has agreed to take on the diplomat role in Italy. The move on Potter's part was a surprise to his superiors, but generally accepted as his due after spending seven years of battling He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_"Harry is a brilliant man and would have made an equally brilliant auror; he will be sorely missed," Gwaine Robards, Head Auror, said when asked about Potter's departure. "When he came in requesting to be dismissed from the program, I was surprised and reluctant to let go of such a naturally talented young man, but I can understand that after spending years fighting, one might need a break."_

_Potter originally planned to go on an extended vacation according to some sources, but was talked around to taking the diplomat position as a personal favor to the newly elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Both men fought together in the Order of Phoenix, a vigilante group formed to rid the world of You-Know-Who and have remained close colleagues and, some even say, friends._

_"Mr. Potter was hesitant to take on the position, siting his youth and inexperience, but I managed to ease his mind and talk him around," Minister Shacklebolt stated, a confident smile on his face. "I have no doubts that Mr. Potter will be a magnificent addition to my staff and am thankful that he conceded to help round out my team."_

_Potter is slated to leave for his position by private portkey some time tomorrow and is expected to remain in Italy for the next two years as set out by his contract, only coming home for the odd meeting and other Ministry events. When the Prophet finally managed to catch up with our bashful savior, the only comment he offered was this..._

_"I just needed to get away. I've spent so much of my youth struggling for mere survival, that I decided it was time to start living; plus I wanted to try something different before I burnt out. Perhaps, when my contract is up, I'll come back in two years refreshed and ready to try the auror program again. Until then, this is a fabulous opportunity to soak up a new culture, language and people, and I simply plan to enjoy this time away to truly live my life. Perhaps I'll even travel a bit on my down time – who knows?"_

_It is a sad day ladies, seeing our Savior move so far away from his homeland, but we at the Prophet wish him nothing but the best in his new venture and hope he comes home soon._

_For more on the Ministry changes, see page 6._

Draco set the paper down, completely unaware of the concerned his mother shot his way and stood, his heart in his throat. He strode away, needing to get out of the manor before the walls closed in, missing the distressed cluck his mother made at his retreating back when she too noticed the headline. Harry was leaving...he'd quit the auror program and was moving to another country. He didn't know what to think or do with this information.

Grabbing some floo powder, he called out his destination, without any real awareness of where he was headed and sucked in a harsh breath when he whirled away, landing in the Leaky without any real intention of going there. Staring at the dark, smoky confines, his eyes landed on the table where he and Harry had shared their last drink and his heart clenched painfully, throbbing heavily against his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the entrance of Diagon Ally. Breathing shallowly, he tapped the correct sequence absently and walked through, his body frozen and mind a chaotic mess, whirling at the thought of Harry being gone for two years.

Stepping out into the alley, he halted abruptly, staring at the cheerful shops with blind eyes, completely befuddled as to why he was even there; he had no reason to be and definitely had no desire to shop after all the nonsense he'd had to go through with the bonding ceremony. But it had been instinctual, going to the last place he saw Harry after hearing such disturbing, distressing news.

Stumbling down the alley, he was oblivious to the stares and comments around him, people startled by his ragged appearance and was secretly hoping to outrun the news of the day. Gasping when he barreled into another person, his hands automatically flew up to right them, apologizing before he even registered the face of his victim.

"My apologies," he said in a dazed tone, sure that his pale complexion was boarding on ghostly in his shock and not wanting to alarm anyone, he focused on the person, his brow creasing when he spied a familiar mass of bushy brown hair. "Granger. My apologies again. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Malfoy," Granger replied formally, nodding her head in acknowledgment of his apology, shooting the hulking redhead at her side a quelling glare, obviously warning him to keep his mouth shut. "No harm done; we all get a bit distracted from time to time."

"Yes...I..." he replied, his distracted mind unable to truly process what was being said and nodded absently. "Yes. I suppose we do."

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" Granger asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she noted his wan, disheveled appearance, a first from someone who was typically immaculate. "You look a little pale. Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I...no," Draco shook his head jerkily, focusing on the frowning brunette once again. "I've just had a bit of a shock and I'm still processing everything."

"Maybe you should sit down," Granger suggested helpfully, pointing to a tea house in the distance. "Perhaps get a cup of tea until you're feeling better. Everything okay with your family?"

"Yeah...they...yes, they are all well, thank you," Draco managed to spit out semi-coherently, his brain finally registering that he was in a middle of a conversation and that he should pay attention. Studying the brunette thoughtfully, he figured she would be the best person to confirm or deny the day's news.

"Tell me, is it true that Potter's moving to the continent?" he asked, internally cringing at the edge of desperation in his tone, especially when astute, soft brown eyes lit with understanding, and Granger's mouth rounded delicately. "It's just...I saw it in the Prophet and they aren't the most reliable source."

"Why?" the Weasel spat, joining the conversation for the first time, his face drawn as if he'd been sucking on a lemon, but Draco didn't pay him any mind, too focused on the woman in front of him. "Wanting to know when to start celebrating?"

"Ron," Granger admonished, fixing him with a hard stare and effectively silencing him before turning back to Draco. "Actually, yes. For once they managed to report the news fairly accurately, surprisingly enough. Harry is supposed to leave tomorrow morning to get settled in."

Draco's head reeled again, the words a sucker punch to the gut, leaving him winded and aching, and once again unable to process the thought of Harry not being here. What was he supposed to do without him? Even with the separation, a part of him had been hopeful that they'd reconcile somewhere down the line and be friends again if nothing else...and now he was leaving.

"Malfoy?" Granger called, grabbing his attention, her eyes filled with worry and...was that compassion?

"He's leaving," he murmured to himself, as if stating it aloud would cement the thought into reality, making it stick in his fragmented brain. "I can't believe he's leaving."

"What do you care, Ferret?" the Weasel growled, obviously tired of being ignored, grunting like the baboon he was when Granger elbowed him in the ribs, her gaze boring holes into his head; but the redhead rushed on, heedless to the world of pain his girlfriend would inflict upon him when this was over. "In fact, if it wasn't for you, Harry might still be..."

"Ronald!' Granger hissed, finally garnering her boyfriend's attention, glowering at him viciously as she made a sharp, cutting gesture across her throat. The redhead paled, obviously realizing he had said something he shouldn't have, and cut off his tirade to grumble incoherently under his breath.

"Wasn't for me?" Draco asked, his gaze sharpening as Granger groaned, running a hand through her thick curls as she bit her lip uncertainly. No way was he going to let that comment pass without question. "Wasn't for me, what? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Granger replied hastily, squirming uncomfortably when Draco pinned her with a disbelieving moue and sighed, resignation coating her tone. "It's not really our place to say, Malfoy."

"Fine," he groused, turning his back on the couple, his heart thudding in his ears. If they wouldn't give him answers, then he'd just have to beard the lion in his den. "Then I'll just go to the source."

Sweeping off, and happy to have a set task at hand, he ignored Granger's protests and the Weasel's continued grousing as he headed towards the Leaky and out into Muggle London. He was going to get some answers if it was the last thing he did.

... ... ..

Draco stared at the barren tables, shelves and mantel, all more evidence to Harry's imminent departure, blatantly ignoring the now fidgeting house elf staring at him with wide eyes and wringing her hands. Lungs constricting, squeezing all the air out of them, he traveled the length of the house, noting yet more signs of the owner preparing for a long absence. This was unacceptable to him; he couldn't allow Harry to leave England, to leave him.

"Potter, I know that you're here," he called down the hall as he hurriedly stamped up the stairs, cursing the desperate note that rang in his ears as he climbed, freezing when he caught sight of Harry walking cautiously down the hallway towards him. Gods, he was still so beautiful.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Harry asked guardedly, confusion evident on his face as he came to a halt a few feet in front of Draco, shifting uneasily under the intensity of Draco's stare.

"Is it true?" he asked impatiently, climbing the rest of the stairs to come within a foot of the other man, his senses reeling when the soft scent of sweat, soap and a faint hint of apples washed over him, bringing back memories of them wrapped in each other's arms.

"Is what true?" Harry asked gingerly, his brow furrowing as his confusion mounted, and he cocked his head slightly to the side inquisitively, those bright green eyes clouded as they met his own.

"Are you leaving because of me?" he demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously when Harry backed up a step, the color draining from his face and the brunet shook his head jerkily, as if to ward off the line of questioning.

"What?" Harry countered hoarsely, obviously choosing to go the denial route

"Well, I had an enlightening conversation with Weasley and Granger," he replied silkily, taking another step forward, thrilled when he watched the other man swallow nervously, his eyes watchful of Draco's every movement. "And they seem to think your leaving the country has to do with me."

"Bloody hell, they swore..." Harry cursed under his breath, then halted, darting an anxious glance at Draco, cutting off whatever he was going to say. Studying the Draco coolly, Harry seemed to pull himself together and shrugged negligently before turning to walk down the hall towards what Draco presumed was his bedroom."It's nothing, really Draco."

"Nothing?" Draco riposted skeptically, shaking his head as he pursued the shorter man down the hall, his hand latching on to Harry's wrist, and spinning the other man around to face him, barely quelled the urge to push the brunet into the wall with his body. "Oh no you don't, Potter. They tried that with me as well and I'm not buying. What do...why would your leaving be my fault?"

"It's not..." Harry responded weakly, keeping his eyes averted over Draco's shoulder as Draco crowded the brunet into the wall, his shoulders slumping and obviously agitated at the close confines. Licking his lips, Harry met his gaze. "I...just need to get away. Do something different. I..."

Draco inhaled sharply as those gorgeous eyes spilled their secret to him, the emotion swirling in them unmistakable, even to someone as emotionally challenged as he, and he stepped back minutely, reeling at the depth of love he found. Sighing in resignation, Harry looked away, tensing subtly as if waiting for a blow, or perhaps a rejection of the feelings he'd shared. Trembling softly, Draco continued to watch the other man quietly, his mind swarming with possibilities if he could just convince Harry to stay and...well he didn't know what to do about the Greengrass contract, but surely there was a solution. He didn't want to lose Harry again.

"You never could lie worth shit, Harry," he swore softly, stepping forward to take the other man in his arms and rested his forehead against Harry's, inhaling the sweet scent of his hair, reveling in the feeling of having Harry in his arms once more. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say, Draco?" Harry queried tiredly, pulling away from Draco to go into his room, where he closed one trunk and set it aside, and then grabbed another, murmuring a brief spell to have it continue the packing for him and then faced Draco, pointing out quietly. "You're engaged."

"But I thought you didn't care...you seemed to pull away at the end of school and..." Draco returned, equally as quiet, recalling how much it hurt the day Harry cooled towards him, even if it had been at his own instigation. "You never said anything. You even refused to stand up for me."

"Are you kidding?" Harry stared at him incredulously, and he had to wince as he thought about it. Of course Harry wouldn't want to stand by and watch someone he loved marry another. If he had been in the same position, well, they wouldn't have found the body. "I'm in love with you; do you honestly believe I could just sit there and..."

Draco flushed to have his own conclusion flung into his face, even as his heart did a happy little jig at finally hearing those three little words fall from Harry's lips.

"I can't," Harry continued with a frown, his eyes sad and resigned. "I wish I could be the bigger person, but I can't watch you with her. I wish you all the happiness in the world, but I won't stand by and watch you marry someone else. Just what was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me?" he said almost inaudibly, sighing when Harry huffed softly.

"And what good would that have done?" Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he met Draco's eyes, a dull ache shining out of them. "What would have changed? You'd still need an heir and that is something I can't provide."

"There are other ways..." he insisted before trailing off at Harry's chiding look.

"So, you're willing to go against your parents? You calling off the wedding?" the brunet asked gently, pointing out the obvious flaw in his thinking.

"I..." He opened his mouth to agree to anything if it meant keeping Harry, but then closed it quietly. Would he be willing to go against everything he had been taught, turn against his parents and their wishes, break a signed contract with the Greengrass family and face potential disowning?

"Exactly," Harry broke into his thoughts, sighing wearily as he turned back to his trunks and set another packing, and a sense of panic washed over Draco at the action. "I don't begrudge you this, Draco. I really don't. I know your obligations. But I can't sit here and watch the man that I love build a life with someone else."

"But..." he protested, but was cut off with a wave of Harry's hand.

"It's better this way," Harry replied softly, his eyes dancing around the mostly backed room sadly before he met Draco's gaze. "You know that. I won't be here to cause discomfort and eventually...perhaps one day...I can return and watch the two of you without hurting."

"Don't...don't do this, stay with me," he pleaded quietly, his heart aching at the resolution in Harry's eyes and his stomach dropped when Harry shook his head dejectedly, his words an arrow to his shattering heart.

"I can't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet inspired by Eyes of Grace by Enation


	7. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco reflects...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 of 3

_"I can't."_

Perched on his porch swing, Draco stared out at the manor's grounds, his knees loosely drawn to his chest as he soaked up the late afternoon heat, his eyes closed and face tipped to the sun as he recalled the events from just over a year ago, the residual hurt from Harry's refusal still burning in his heart. Today, he understood Harry's reasoning and why he couldn't stay even when Draco had all but begged him to, but it didn't stop the pain that echoed through his chest when he thought about that time.

Harry had put his life on hold over and over for the people in his life, as well as the wizarding world in general, giving so much of himself, he'd had nothing left over for himself and had truly been facing burnout. While part of the reason for him leaving the country had been the inability to watch Draco marry someone else, he hadn't lied in his brief interview with the Prophet; he did need a change and to start living his life and stop just existing from day-to-day, doing what everyone else expected of him. So, as angry as he wanted to be with Harry for walking away, he got it; he really did.

Plus, he had made excellent points that day; what point did he really have in staying when the only person that could change his mind was too wrapped up in what was expected of him and his family pride to put the brunet first? And after everything he'd been through in his short life, Harry deserved to have someone put him above everything else. It didn't make the decision Harry had made any easier, but everyone was entitled to be a bit selfish now and then. And Draco's demand had been unfair, expecting Harry to keep a promise, when he hadn't been able to make any promises himself.

_"You promised," he whispered, those two words making his stomach cramp and left him feeling ill, tense and gasping for air as his lungs constricted painfully. "You said you'd always be here."_

_"I know what I said," Harry replied sharply, before closing his eyes tightly and digging the heels of his hands into them as he drew a deep breath, his face pinched as he struggled internally with his emotions. Opening his eyes when he was calmer, he explained softly. "But I'm committed to this position. I've already signed the contract, Draco, and am obligated for the next two years."_

_Draco ran his hand through his hair and turned away from Harry, his mind racing with everything he'd learned from Granger, the Weasel and Harry himself, wondering just how he had missed what was so obvious now. Had he been so wrapped up in his own pride and pain that he hadn't seen Harry's? How much of this could have been avoided if he had just let Harry take his hand in the Leaky instead of worrying what the public might have said about Draco corrupting their Savior; hell, he'd never cared what others thought before and he knew damned well that Harry couldn't care less._

_"And if you're not planning to change anything," Harry continued, sighing wearily when Draco turned around and stared at the brunet, his confusion evident. "There is nothing holding me here."_

_"Just..." Draco broke off, his head spinning as he tried to come up with a plausible reason to halt the impending implosion of his world. "Wait, just give me a chance to think about this at least."_

_"I **can't** , Draco," Harry emphasized, running his hands through his hair, his agitation palpable as he began to pace restlessly, his hands resting on the top of his head. "They are expecting me tomorrow, so that I can set up household and I have so much to finish before I leave. Maybe if I hadn't signed the contract...but there is nothing for it, I am magically bound. I have to go and fulfill my responsibilities."_

_"You can't just..." he cried, getting agitated himself the more Harry talked, watching the opportunity of a lifetime slip through his fingers because he'd waited too long. And although he hadn't known anything for certain until today, he should have acted as soon as he saw that kiss. "You can't just dump this on me and expect me to know what to say or do, Harry."_

_"I hadn't planned on dumping it on you at all," Harry groused. Rubbing his hand over his face when Draco paled and snapped back as if slapped at the confession."I'd planned on a quiet exit. **You're** the one that came to my house demanding answers."_

_"So you would have just slunk away without ever telling me?" he queried indignantly, knowing he was acting unreasonably, but unable to help himself, stung that Harry had obviously never planned to tell him how he felt. "Just walked away without a word? I never took you for a coward."_

_As soon as he said it, Draco knew he had crossed a line; no one in their right mind would dare call, or even imply, that Harry was a coward. He was the single bravest man he knew and deserved better than his spiteful words, but they were out and no amount of wishing could take them back. Flinching when Harry spun around in outrage and glowered, Draco felt immediately ashamed of his accusation, but never had the chance to apologize as Harry spat._

_"You **dare**? I'll have you know, I thought I was doing the best thing for the both of us. You seemed quite content to run about town with your bride-to-be, making plans and socializing, never giving a thought to me or our previous relationship. So why should I think you'd be interested in knowing how I felt? You made it quite clear where your priorities stood and never indicated otherwise, Malfoy."_

_"I told you it wasn't a love match," he retorted softly, his heart throbbing painfully at Harry's words, but knowing he deserved them. He'd been so hurt in what he thought of as Harry's abandonment, he'd thrown himself into the betrothal, rather than just talking to the man and setting things right._

_"But you never said that you felt anything for me," Harry pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "In fact, you still haven't, so I'm not sure what you're protesting in the first place."_

_"Because I..." he trailed off, uncertain on what to say to the implied question; how did he begin to express what he felt for Harry? "You..."_

_"See, you can't even say anything now," Harry sighed, the fight going out of him as he turned back to his trunks. "Just...go, Draco. Marry your pretty, pure-blood bride and have lots of babies. Be happy. Really, that's all I want for you."_

_"You can't mean that," he whispered, his throat clogging from the unexpressed emotions welling inside him._

_"I do," Harry replied, turning around and walking over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Really. I just want your happiness, no matter who it's with or where you are."_

_Harry smiled wanly as their eyes met, his shimmering with sadness as he leaned up and brushed a gentle kiss across Draco's brow, lingering for just a moment. Draco closed his eyes, his senses overwhelmed by the scent and feel of Harry, so close to him and yet so far away, and made a noise of protest when he felt the brunet pull away, putting distance between them once more. Opening his eyes, he silently watched Harry pack for several minutes before he cleared his throat and said._

_"This isn't over, Potter. You can't tell me this and then just expect me to walk away."_

_"I'm not the one who can't make up his mind," Harry replied quietly, keeping his back turned, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. "I love you, but I won't wait for you to chose...if there is a choice at all."_

But he had walked away.

Closing his eyes, Draco drew a shuddering breath, leaving his head against the back of the swing, a bittersweet ache splashing through his chest at the memory. He had meant the words at the time, he really had no intention of leaving the situation right there, but he had always been a bit of the coward he had accused Harry of being. And he'd left, his mind reeling at the words they'd exchanged. He'd fully intended to go home, get the contract out and read it over to see if there was a way for him to get out of the marriage. But when he got there, he'd immediately gotten accosted by his mother, Astoria, Daphne and Lady Greengrass, who were hashing out some inane detail and time slid away.

Harry left, taking Draco's heart with him and Draco had been left in limbo, torn between following his heart and doing the right thing. And before he knew it, weeks had passed and it was only three weeks before his bonding ceremony and he was at his wit's end, feeling even more lost than when Harry had walked away the first time. He couldn't concentrate, he was barely eating or sleeping and he felt like an inferi most days – an empty vessel just going through the motions and performing on command, much as he did as a child.

Until his mother's intervention.

_"What is wrong, my Dragon?" his mother queried, drawing him from his thoughts as she ran a soothing hand over his hair._

_"Nothing, Mother," he replied, continuing to stare out the bay window in his room, where he'd sought sanctuary after a grueling day of bonding chores, each detail hitting like another nail in his coffin. "I'm just tired."_

_It wasn't an outright lie; he was tired – exhausted if he wanted to be completely honest – but that was only a fraction of the true problem. The truth was he felt trapped by the obligations and expectations of the life his family had chosen for him. Just once, he wanted to feel free to make his own decisions – to do what he chose, see who he chose, befriend who he chose...to love who he chose._

_Instead, he was tied up in knots, bound to a marriage not of his own making. It was suffocating._

_"You cannot lie to me, my little Dragon," his mother countered, interrupting his thoughts again and sat on the window seat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "I know you too well, and while I've known you to be slightly unhappy with this bonding, you have become completely miserable the past few weeks. Coincidentally around the same time that our illustrious Mr. Potter departed for warmer climes."_

_"Mother?" he questioned softly, turning away from his vigil to stare uncertainly at his mother, a flash of fear sparking and jolting down his spine, but only met with concerned, compassionate eyes and a worried frown._

_"Oh, Draco," his mother sighed, reaching up a hand to smooth back a lock of his hair. "Did you honestly believe that I wouldn't notice your feelings for Harry Potter. Come now, my Dragon, I have watched you grow and knew long ago that your obsession was more than a schoolboy rivalry."_

_"I..." Draco paused, for once completely speechless by his mother's words; he had thought he'd masked his emotions well. Truly, his own father had never even guessed. "I don't know what to say."_

_"Perhaps you can tell me what is bothering you and then we can go from there," his mother suggested, watching him expectantly as she made herself comfortable and snapped her fingers for a house elf, ordering tea and biscuits for herself and cocoa (his childhood comfort drink) for Draco as she waited for him to gather his scrambled thoughts._

_"I..." he stumbled as Mitzy popped away, then cleared his throat, continuing hoarsely. "I met with Potter...Harry before he left."_

_He paused again, trying to figure out how to put everything said and implied into words as Mitzy popped back in with a tray loaded with tea, cocoa and his favorite biscuits. Handing him his cocoa, his mother fussed with the tray, making herself up a cup of tea as he took a sip of the steaming chocolate liquid, humming in pleasure as it slid down his throat to curl in his stomach, warming him from the inside out._

_"And?" she prompted, when it became obvious he wasn't going to elaborate, then took a small sip of her tea before placing the cup and the saucer back on the tray and picking up a biscuit._

_"And he...told me that he loves me," he murmured, sighing and picking up a biscuit from his plate, toying with it instead of eating it. "Well I should start at the beginning. I had an argument, if you could call it that, with the Weasel and it came out that Harry was leaving because of me...because of the marriage contract specifically. So, I confronted him and found out that he has harbored feelings for me since our involvement at school. And he...I don't know what to do or think about it."_

_"How do you feel about it; about him?" she asked quietly when he wound down._

_"I love him," he confessed softly, cheeks flushing at her indulgent smile._

_"Then what's the problem?" she said rhetorically, a slim, sculpted brow arching inquisitively._

_"You know the problem, Mother," he huffed, taking a hasty swallow of his cocoa when she frowned, shaking her head slowly. "I'm engaged. We have a contract with the Greengrasses. I can't just...walk away from it."_

_"Why not?" his mother asked, sipping on her cup of tea nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just suggested that he break a contract that had taken them months to negotiate._

_"Are you kidding?" he asked, aghast that she'd even suggested going against what amounted to centuries of tradition and familial obligation."First of all, Father will kill me; not to mention that we have a signed contract."_

_"Oh, Draco," she sighed heavily, setting her cup aside and taking his hands, looking at him seriously. "I thought you had learned better than this...Draco, I love your father, but he is hardly a person to be emulating. and he...he always thinks he knows best, but this is your life. Do not allow him bully you into something that will ultimately make you miserable. As for the contract, there are loop holes; you didn't honestly think I'd allow you to sign a contract without an out, did you? Your father might be a dunderhead when it comes to his dealings and choosing his associates, but I am not."_

_"Mother!" he gasped, scandalized by her last words, but also couldn't help but smirk at them at the same time; one he wisely hid by ducking his head. Not that he fooled her._

_"Oh, pish," she waved his reaction off with her hand. "He was, and well you know it."_

_"I just..." he said, letting his voice fade as he sought for the sentiment he wished to convey. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."_

_"You can never disappoint me, my Dragon," she assured quietly, squeezing his hands. "Unless you don't follow your heart. The war has taught me that, while some of our culture and traditions are worth preserving, there are many more that should be re-examined and shunted aside. And your father can get over it."_

_Smiling at his mother, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, grateful as always that he had her support and heart lightened by the possibilities she presented._

_"Just be happy, my darling," she continued, getting up and pressing a small kiss to his forehead, smoothing back his hair as she unwittingly echoed Harry's sentiment."That is all I want for you."_

Draco sighed and lifted his head, quietly watching the water flowing from one of their many fountains, the peaceful trickle of water soothing away the lingering hurt of his foolish actions. He'd always been spectacular at sabotaging his own happiness and he couldn't believe that he'd allowed it to spiral so out of control. His hesitation had cost him in so many ways, but in the end, he'd felt that he'd made the right decision in the end.

Even if it had blown up spectacularly in his face, and he and his father could barely exchange a civil word these days.

_"I'm not bonding with Astoria," he announced at dinner several days later, eyes cast on his plate, finally having worked up the nerve to state his intentions._

_After his mother's advice, he had pulled out the contract between Astoria and himself, and went over it with a fine-toothed comb, seeking the loophole his mother had mentioned and grinned when he found the clause near the end of the document, stating he could cry off if there were obvious, irreconcilable differences. He figured being gay and in love with a man would fall in that realm. And although he knew his father would argue it wasn't a strong enough case to dissolve the contract, Astoria felt differently when he presented his reasoning. She agreed to his suggestion, preferring to marry a man who held the ability to be attracted to her and had the potential to fall in love with her._

_He raised his eyes from his plate, and met his mother's gaze, relieved when she beamed, nodding approvingly of his decision; but he knew that she wasn't the problem considering she had pointed him in the right direction. It was his father that he truly had to fight. Not that Lucius could do anything as it was a done deal. Even now, Astoria was breaking off the contract and announcing the dissolution of their engagement. Looking at his father, he sighed internally as he felt icy eyes on him, his father's face set into a cold mask, but Draco refused to be daunted._

_"Of course you will," his father replied icily, railroading over Draco's desires as if unimportant, like he'd done since Draco was a boy. "We have a contract."_

_"I have already spoken to Astoria," he continued, ignoring the flaring of his father's nose and the twitch near his eye that gave away his anger, chinks in that cool mask. "She has agreed to break the contract stating irreconcilable differences. I'm allowing her to end the agreement in my place to salvage her pride."_

_"This is utter nonsense," his father spluttered, setting his fork down and took a sip of his wine, an obvious delaying tactic as he expected Draco feel contrition at his displeasure and cave, but it didn't have the same impact as it had when he was fifteen. "What could possibly be so irreconcilable that you can't marry the chit?"_

_"I am in love with someone else," he admitted softly, sharing a small smile with his mother before letting it drop as he turned back to his father. "When given all the information about my beloved, she agreed that she couldn't bond with someone she hadn't a chance of winning over."_

_"Utter nonsense," Lucius spat, snapping his fingers for an elf, ordering a tumbler of scotch from the cowering being. Draco merely stared back at his father unfazed. "Who is this chit? I hope that she is of a good family."_

_"I happen to think that he is from an excellent family," Draco replied calmly, smirking when his father choked on his scotch at that admission, and pressed on before he could recover. "One of the best. Heir of two prominent lines, powerful, both magically and politically, wealthy, gorgeous, he is quite the match. Not that any of that is important to me. I love him. That is all the qualification I need."_

_"Absolutely not," his father choked, his cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of purple._

_"You don't have a say in this, Father," he interrupted, cutting the other man off before he could launch a tirade. "I am an adult and it is my life. I will live it as I choose."_

_"Well who is this supposed paragon?" his father sneered, downing the last of his drink and glared at Draco heatedly. "And why isn't he here to back you up if he's so perfect?"_

_"Unfortunately, he is away on business, otherwise, I'm sure he'd be happy to support me," Draco responded quietly, refusing to give his father the fight he was spoiling for. "And you know him actually; his name is Harry Potter."_

_"Absolutely not," Lucius spat, practically foaming at the mouth the moment Harry's name had been mentioned. "No son of mine..."_

_"You act like you have a say in this," Draco cut him off before he could begin a rant about dirty blood and Harry being the reason behind the ending of his glory days. "But I assure you , Father, you do not. I love Harry and I plan to bond with him if he'll have me and I care not a lick if you approve of my choice in partners or not."_

_"You do, and I will wash my hands of you," his father threatened, his knuckles blanching as they clutched the arms of his chair, the wood creaking under the pressure."I will disown you if you take up with that..."_

_"Then by all means, do it," Draco spat, his eyes pinning his father to his chair, allowing him to see the contempt that had built and festered over the years, making the older man pale. Besides, while Lucius wood certainly ban him from the property and make his life difficult, he would never actually disown him as then the fortune would go to a distant, hated cousin; and his father would never allow that. "All of my life, I've done what is expected; I caved to your desires thinking you could do no wrong. But I am no longer a child and I have since learned that you are fallible."_

_Draco paused to take a sip of his wine, holding his father's gaze coldly as he let the words sink into the other man's over-inflated head; only looking away for a moment to glance at his mother an smirked when she seemed to be boring holes into her husband's head with her frosty glare. Flicking his eyes back his apoplectic father, he continued smoothly._

_"I love Harry, and I will bond with him if he will still have me. I'd rather come to him a pauper and find love, happiness and fulfillment than marry Astoria a wealthy man and be forever stuck behind these oppressive walls, crassly counting my galleons, like some cold, empty inferi."_

_"I will not be spoken to this way..." his father roared, standing up as if to lean over and strike him, but halted when his mother rose from her chair with a hiss._

_"Oh, do shut up before you make an even bigger arse of yourself, Lucius."_

_His father gaped at his mother, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he sunk into his chair petulantly, reminiscent of a scolded child as his mother glided around the table and smoothed Draco's hair back, pride lighting her eyes._

_"I am proud of you, my Dragon, you have grown into a wonderful man," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, casting a single quelling glare when his father opened his mouth to comment. "Say hello to Harry for me and let me know when you get settled. I'd love to come visit and meet your young man under better circumstances."_

_"Of course, Mother," he replied, smiling softly at the woman who'd always had his back. "I'm sure he would love that as well. He's always spoken highly of you and the aid you gave him._

_"Excellent," she smiled, running her hand over his head lovingly before turning a heated glower on his father, issuing her own threat. "And **you**...you will support our son or learn to keep your mouth shut lest you learn exactly why the Black women have been feared over the centuries."_

Draco smiled, leaning back into the chair further, staring at the cool, creamy arches of the Italian villa that had been his home for the past ten months, his eyes lighting with a warm glow when a dark-haired man walked out of the door balancing a tray in his hands. His smile broadened into an outright grin as emerald eyes lifted from the tray to meet his, sparkling with contentment and happiness, and made Draco sigh with an echo of those same emotions.

"There you are," he commented lazily, tugging on Harry's wrist and toppling him into his lap after the brunet set the tray down onto a low table next to him. "I was wondering what you'd been getting up to."

"I thought you might enjoy a snack," Harry smiled, nuzzling his cheek, a flash of gold on his left hand catching the sunlight, nearly blinding them both as he rested his hand against Draco's chest, and he grinned at the band that matched his own.

"You thought right," he smirked, dipping his head to capture cherry red lips, humming in delight when they parted beneath his, eagerly inviting the tongue he slipped between them. Curling his tongue around Harry's, he stroked the brunet's languidly, drowning in the flavor of cinnamon, cherries and a hint of bittersweet chocolate. Pulling away, he smacked his lips approvingly. "Mmmm...delicious."

"Flatterer," Harry chuckled huskily, his cheeks flushing deliciously at the comment as he settled into Draco's arms, humming in contentment as he stared at the courtyard. "You seemed as if you were miles away."

"Just thinking about the day I found you again," Draco answered, brushing his lips over Harry's temple, closing his eyes in bliss as the soft scent of apples and rain teased his senses.

"Ah," Harry hummed knowingly, tangling his fingers with Draco's, brushing a soft kiss against the knuckles of their joined hands. "That was a truly spectacular day."

"Yes it was," he agreed, wrapping his other arm around Harry's waist and pulled him back between his raised legs. "Best day of my life."

_Draco paused at the double doors, staring at the beautiful white villa, bordering the equally stunning Lake Como in Italy. Although the Italian Ministry of Magic was situated in Milan, Harry chose to settle down in Como (a short apparation jump away) due to the quiet and secluded atmosphere. And looking around, he could understand its appeal after the months of harassment and endless media circus Harry had been subjected to at the end of the war._

_Gathering his courage, he rang the doorbell, his heart thudding in his chest as he listened to the chimes echo through the manor and waited quietly for the beloved mop of black hair and bright green eyes he'd traveled a long way to see. Fidgeting nervously, he tugged at the sleeve of his light summer sweater and fervently hoped that Harry was actually in that day. It would be disappointing to come all this way, only to find that Harry was out sight-seeing or traveling._

_Head snapping up when he heard the echo of footsteps and the jingle of a lock being removed, Draco inhaled sharply, his heart and stomach fluttering like mad as the door opened and Harry came into view, a frozen smile pasted on the brunet's face as he stared unblinkingly at Draco. As for Draco himself, he drank in the vision before him, the sight of that gorgeous face and tousled hair, now touching Harry's shoulders, making him jittery and he let out his breath in a low, shaky rush._

_He was utterly beautiful._

_"Harry..." he breathed, unable to believe that he was standing in front of him at last._

_"Draco...what..." Harry whispered, blindly clutching at the door frame for support, his eyes anchored on Draco and he swayed slightly as Draco stepped closer. "Why are you here?"_

_"I came for you," he replied simply, smiling when Harry shook his head slightly, as if he were trying to make sure he was really seeing and hearing Draco, his eyes widening in surprise as Draco's words sunk in._

_"But..." Harry breathed, stepping closer, his hand reaching out as if to make sure Draco were really there before halting and he licked his lips nervously, blinking rapidly as he seemed to break through his stupor. "Wait...isn't today supposed to be your wedding day?"_

_"The wedding is off," he responded, biting his lip thoughtfully and averting his eyes for a moment to get his bearings before dropping them to Harry once more. "And it never would have been on in the first place had I known you loved me. I can't...I won't live without you."_

_"Oh...I... **oh** ," Harry stammered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before alarm flashed across his face. "Wait, you didn't leave her at the altar, did you?"_

_"No," he reassured, chuckling under his breath at the relief that flooded across the other man's face. He couldn't fault his concern; no one wanted to face a woman scorned. "No, she broke the contract a couple of weeks ago by my request."_

_"And you just found me today?" Harry inquired, arching a dark brow in question, a part of him still wary of Draco's sudden appearance._

_"Well, I did have to wrap some things up first," he acknowledged, thinking about the endless list of vendors that needed canceling and guests that needed appeasing, not to mention an irate father that hounded him relentlessly. Although, the latter let up after two days when his mother made good on her threat, and his father had to spend a week recovering from whatever she'd cast at him. Draco didn't ask, as he really didn't think he wanted to know based on his father's mortified reaction._

_"Plus I thought it oddly symbolic," he continued with an uncertain smile. "The day my life changed forever – only, I'm hoping that it will be you taking that step with me instead."_

_Draco gasped, gurgling in surprise when he suddenly found himself with an armful of tempting brunet, his soft cry cut off by the warm, firm press of pink lips as Harry proceeded to snog him senseless. Humming in pleasure, he wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him closer, reveling in the feeling of finally coming home._

_"Harry?" he whispered against the other man's lips as he pulled away, smiling when he met hazy green eyes. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but can I get an actual answer?"_

_"Yes," Harry breathed, kissing him gently as a smile spread across his face. "Of course, yes."_

Draco sighed happily, tightening his hold on the beautiful brunet in his arms, and rested his chin on the top of Harry's head, letting his eyes travel over the calm, shining waters of Lake Como just beyond their garden and couldn't remember a time when he'd felt happier. They still had a lot of work ahead of them, and Harry still had another year of his contract, but he didn't mind. He'd travel to hell and back for the man in his arms.

"Do you regret it?" Harry asked quietly, gesturing vaguely with his hand, but Draco knew exactly what he was asking without clarification.

Humming softly, he thought about the friends that were still fuming because they had run off together and those that were still expecting them to fail, unconvinced they could work due to their fiery personalities. He thought of the father, who still stubbornly held to his views (although, he never disowned Draco as he threatened, fearful of his vengeful wife), thinking Draco would eventually cave to his whims. He thought of the wizarding community, that had cried out indignantly when his and Harry's relationship went public, stating Harry deserved so much more than a former Death Eater as a partner. And weighing all the strife against the sheer joy he derived in a single kiss, he couldn't regret a damned thing.

"Never," he whispered against Harry's ear, brushing a gentle kiss on the lobe. "Best decision I ever made."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet inspired by Nothing Else Matters by Metallica


	8. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never piss off the hero...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I absolutely suck at updating lately, you get several updates today.
> 
>  **Additional Warnings:** Mild angst, character bashing, Manipulative!Dumbledore, Jealous!Ron, Misguided!Hermione - that said, while I do feel that Dumbledore was manipulative, I don't truly think he was as bad as he is portrayed in this one-shot, nor do I think Harry would necessarily react this way. But this is the story that came out when I listened to the song, so that's what you get.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to exile from the British Wizarding Community; you are stripped of all British Wizarding titles, and in compensation for crimes against the British Wizarding Community, you are stripped of your Gringotts Family Vault, the primary residence of Malfoy Manor..." Dumbledore's voice rang out over the silent courtroom, droning on triumphantly, obviously thinking he'd found a plausible way to finally separate Draco and his boy hero. But Draco didn't hear the rest of the words, nor did he register the outraged cries from his family or the bright, fiery gaze of said hero as he stared Dumbledore down, promising him a world of pain for this ruling.

The word 'exile' rang through his ears, ringing through it viciously, tearing at his insides like an angry snake, pouring its poison into an already seeping wound. He didn't care about the titles, or the vault or the manor after that abomination of life had made it his centre He'd gladly give up all of his wealth as well; no, it was the fact that in three days time he'd be separated from the only person who had believed in him and the only one he'd ever loved outside of his family.

It wasn't fair. He'd done everything they'd wanted and he was cast aside as rubbish now that they'd won the war. He really shouldn't have been surprised, as he'd never trusted Dumbledore as Harry had, but it was still a knife to the heart. After lowering his wand on the Astronomy Tower, he had taken Dumbledore's offer of sanctuary for he and his mother; his father he hadn't cared about, as it had been due to his fanaticism that Draco had been marked in the first place.

Dumbledore had promised him safety, and while he had remained doubtful at first, he'd slowly come to trust in Harry's words that he'd never allow anything happen to him once everything was over.

He didn't blame Harry for this, however; he knew this smacked of Dumbledore's machinations, along with his little minions, the Weasel and Know-It-All. They hadn't been happy with how close Draco and Harry had gotten during the last year of the war, especially when Harry seemed to come to him for advice above the three of them; of course, they would neutralize what they saw as a threat. One couldn't ride the coattails of the Saviour if said Saviour ignored them in favour of a Death Eater's son.

He was surprised that they had managed to wait this long before removing him from the picture, if he were to be completely honest; but he supposed if they had moved sooner, they would have had an infuriated, recalcitrant hero on their hands and they didn't want the obvious questions that would have been asked about Harry's attitude change. It had been a far wiser to keep the one who was slated to save their collective arses happy until he'd gotten the job done and his happiness was no longer necessary to world survival. It was sickening really.

Lifting his head, he met Dumbledore's eyes and sneered at the mad twinkle in his calculating eyes, obviously pleased that he had gotten the last word. _Laugh while you can, old man; I have a feeling that you'll get your just due sooner than you think. I'll have the last laugh in the end. You may think you have broken me, but I will come back to haunt you when you least expect it._

Turning away, he sneered at the Weasel's smug smile, but was surprised when he met worried brown eyes as they flicked between a fuming green-eyed brunet and Dumbledore; well, at least there was an ounce of intelligence in one of them. It seemed that Granger finally realized that this was going to seriously backfire. Arching a perfectly sculpted brow, he smirked when the brunette flushed and turned away in shame, making him feel just the tiniest flash of triumph.

Nodding to the Wizengamot, he ignored their invitation to speak on their decree and walked out of the chamber without a word, his head held high, not about to give them the satisfaction of seeing a broken and humiliated Malfoy. They may have stripped him of his birthright, but he still had his family name and their blood still ran through his veins; he would do them proud once more.

He would not be defeated.

"Draco!" a voice called, making he and his mother turn, finding a flushed, irate Harry Potter striding after them. "I'm so sorry, Draco, Madame Malfoy. I had no idea that they were going to do that. I swear, I will fight this injustice. I'll take them all down if I have to. I won't rest until..."

"Harry, Harry," Draco interrupted, garnering the rambling brunet's attention as he grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. Waiting until Harry quieted, he drew a shaky breath and continued. "I know you had nothing to do with that miscarriage of justice. You are far too Gryffindor for that kind of disloyalty and lack of noblesse. But I don't want you to do anything. You still have to live here and I honestly want nothing to do with a community that can break their promises without so much as blinking. It's better for Mother and I if we just set up residence in France."

"You don't want to stay with me?" Harry whispered, a faint touch of hurt colouring his tone as he snapped back as if he'd been slapped.

"No, that's not it," Draco sighed, bringing the brunet close enough to embrace, but only retained a grasp on his hands, ever mindful of the prying eyes around them. "Of course, I want to stay with you, you stupid Gryffindor; but I also don't want to remain under Dumbledore's thumb. I don't trust him with either mine or my mother's life. He has already proven himself false once; I will not allow him any more power over my loved ones and myself."

As Harry stared at him, Draco sighed and hoped he was getting through to the fiery brunet. The last thing he wanted was Harry placing himself in danger by setting himself up as his defender. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to 'do away' with a tool that was no longer useful. Harry's eyes averted, then hardened as they lit on something behind Draco. Turning his head, he caught sight of the Weasel and the Know-It-All standing in the shadows, watching his and Harry's interactions intently, likely spying for the old fool.

"I have to go," Harry bit out tightly as he glared at the two little spies, his gaze and tone softening as he turned back to Draco. "I have something to take care of, but then I'll be at the manor later to help you."

"Harry, you don't have..." Draco began, but was silenced by Harry's determined smile.

"I'll be there at seven, yeah?" he said, the fire in his eyes blazing as they latched onto his friends once more and Draco really didn't want to be in their shoes when Mt. Harry erupted. Not that they didn't deserve his wrath; he almost wished he could be a fly on the wall during that confrontation, but he only had three days and there was a lot to do.

"Okay," he nodded and watched Harry storm off, blowing off his friends as he made his way back into the courtroom, and he couldn't help but smirk when the Weasel frowned. Ah, poetic justice. Turning around, he offered his arm to his mother and led her to the apparation point, his head set regally, as if he hadn't a care in the world and his mind already filled with all he needed to see to before departure.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Harry took a deep breath and met those gorgeous eyes that had always evoked a response in him, even when they had been rivals, rage swirling in his gut at what had just taken place; Draco had always touched something inside him, and now faced with his forced departure, he could barely meet that angry, but resigned gaze. When he had heard the judgement passed down, he'd been livid, and barely held himself together when he met the meddlesome fool's twinkling eyes, trying yet again to pass himself harmless, sympathetic grandfather figure, but Harry wasn't buying. His life had been one big chess match in that interfering old coot's hands and he was a pawn no longer.

Brushing his hand over Draco's, he promised see him later in the evening to help him with the task of packing up an entire manor in three days, a daunting prospect even with magic; and then set his mind forward to the coming necessary confrontations. No way in hell were they going to get away with railroading Draco and his mother after everything they had done for the cause, and everything they had been through at the hands of that madman and the wizarding community.

Smiling tightly at Draco and his mother, he bade them goodbye and stalked off, brushing past a spluttering Ron and Hermione without a word, shaking off the grasping hands as if he were batting away a gnat. He'd deal with them later; for now, he had much bigger fish to fry...namely one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Whatever-the-Fuck-Else-Name-He-Went-By Dumbledore. He wasn't going to stand for this miscarriage of justice. And even if he couldn't change the ruling, they would damn well know what he thought of Dumbledore's machinations.

Smiling grimly as he stepped into the cool, dark chamber, his eyes only for the doddering fool that held the entire British Wizarding Community in his sway, joke that it was, and studied him and the Wizengamot critically. They were so corrupt it sickened him. Striding to the centre of the floor, he stood there seething quietly, waiting until the chattering died down and all eyes were on him, including Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore greeted, as if they were taking fucking tea, and he hadn't just screwed over a boy he had sworn to protect. Well, they'd see about that.

"I am not your boy, Dumbledore," Harry spat, ignoring the gasps of surprise and dismay that echoed through the gallery, all broken up by the occasional titter. "Not any longer."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped as she came up to his side, horrified that he would speak so virulently and disrespectfully to the Leader of the Light.

"Shut up," he warned dangerously, his eyes spitting fire as he rounded on the girl. "I'll deal with you later, so don't think that you're getting off easy."

"Harry, mate," Ron protested, snapping his mouth shut and swallowing harshly when eyes the exact shade of an Avada Kedavra glowered heatedly at him.

"I said, I'll deal with you later," Harry promised tightly, his tone making it evident that it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. "As I said, I am not your boy, Dumbledore, and I never will be again. I've done your dirty work for the last time."

"Harry, I don't understand..." Dumbledore replied, trying to play to his sympathy, but he had none for this meddlesome man.

"I don't want your excuses, old man," he spat contemptuously. "You promised to protect him and this is the mercy you show? I have no use for people who can so easily go back on their word without even flinching. I want everyone here to stand witness to what I'm about to say, so that there will be no misinterpretation of my words and intentions."

Harry pulled off a medallion that hung around his neck, charmed with a golden phoenix, which dangled from the now broken chain and tossed it to the floor, waving his wand in an intricate design as he intoned implacably.

"I, Harry James Potter, of House Potter, do hereby resign from the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. I refute all ties to the order, its members, and further more, I rescind all ties to its leader, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Henceforth, I do not acknowledge any person associated with this group, nor do I acknowledge any that follow its lead."

Harry snapped his wrist, flicking his wand into a sharp slashing movement, as if cutting through something, and the tie between his magic and the Order audibly snapped, breaking in a shower of golden sparks that left several people clutching at their own pendants as the magic back-lashed. Tucking his wand away, he ripped off the Order of Merlin he'd received just hours earlier, feeling tainted at being heralded as a hero when the true heroes were being shunned, and sneered at the medal, tossing it carelessly to the floor next to the melted pendant.

"Harry..." Dumbledore tried again, his voice soft and appropriately remorseful, but Harry knew him well enough to see through the act, down to the hard glint of cold intelligence and calculation that glimmered in those eyes as he cut him off with a feral smirk.

"I am not done, old man," he sneered, levelling hard green eyes, fairly crackling with rage and power onto Dumbledore and his associates, making their faces pale and bodies to quell under the heat of his contempt. "Not by a long shot. In fact, you could say, I've only just begun."

Meeting the cool blue eyes of his former mentor as he spoke the next words, he felt a flash of vindication when the rest of the colour drained from Dumbledore's face, fear and horror replacing the triumph and calculation in his gaze; and Harry could tell that Dumbledore had finally realized he'd just made an egregious error.

Never piss off the Hero of the piece. It only ends in your detriment.

... ... ...

Harry stepped out of the doors with a smug grin, feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and took a deep, cleansing breath; his first as a man free of all forced entanglements. Striding forward, his mind flew to the tasks he needed to see to, in order to set certain plans in motion – the first being a visit to Gringotts. He wanted his properties and inheritance squared away and safe-guarded from pilfering fingers.

"Harry, mate, wait up," Ron called, as he and Hermione spilled out the chamber doors behind him, forcing Harry to turn with a sigh. Levelling an icy glare onto the person he knew had been pivotal in Draco's conviction, he arched a brow and impatiently tapped his foot, waiting to see what drivel would fall from the red-head's lips this time. "Why did you do that?"

"If you have to ask, it just proves that you never knew me at all," Harry spat, rolling his eyes disparagingly at the nerve of this man. Honestly, it wasn't rocket science, to borrow an American muggle term.

"What?" Ron spluttered, obviously taken aback at Harry's vitriol and glanced around nervously, making Harry quickly scan the area, and noting they had drawn a crowd, he smirked, deciding to use this to his advantage. "Are you insane? Of course, I know you, mate."

"No, you don't," Harry stated implacably, laughing internally when he saw the reporters eating the confrontation up, obviously dying for a scrap of news since they'd been banned from the courtroom. A move that made sense now; he was sure Dumbledore hadn't wanted certain details leaked to the public. Too bad for him. "In fact, I'd say I was seeing clearly for the first time."

Ron backed up when Harry's eyes flashed dangerously and he continued angrily, ignoring the gaping mouths and snorts around him. "You are no mate of mine. And I do not associate with oathbreakers, or their ilk. Take that back to your master."

Turning on his heel, he ignored the whispers and questions swirling around him, feeling he had given them enough to chew on for the day. It had hurt to give up his foster family, but if they continued to religiously follow a man that was just as power-hungry and manipulative as Voldemort, then he wanted nothing to do with them. He didn't trust anyone that mindlessly pledged their allegiance to someone who felt none for those he swore to protect.

"But Harry..." Hermione protested as she followed him, appearing uncertain as to what just happened; she'd likely only wanted to protect him from Malfoy's influence, and had no idea it would spin this out of control.

"That includes you," Harry replied, his eyes hardening as they danced between his former friends. "Don't think for a minute that I am not aware of your part in this travesty. I thought better of you."

Ignoring their gaping mouths and flushed cheeks, he walked away, an evil, little smile crossing his lips as he glanced to the right and spied a familiar face in the crowd. Perfect. He knew that Dumbledore would try to hush up the day's events as much as possible or put his own spin on it, and he wasn't going to allow that. It was time that the people were aware of their precious headmaster's machinations.

"Rita, just the person I wanted to see; have I got a story for you."

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Draco studied the room quietly, a sense of peace filling him as he viewed the cool blue and cream tones; his room had long been a sanctuary, a place he could escape to when things got rough, especially after that madman his father supported had infiltrated the manor and taken up residence. The wards only responded to him, and who he keyed into them, keeping the rest of the world at bay. A fact that his Aunt Bella had loathed, leaving the witch pouting for days when he foiled her traps and made it to the sanctity of his room intact.

Not that they had been all that difficult to elude; Bellatrix had long gone insane and couldn't ward an area to save her life. There was a reason she'd been the Dark Lord's pet torturer – she hadn't been much good for anything else.

It saddened him that he was going to have to leave this behind; even with all his furniture and his personal items coming with him, his new room wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't have years of memories built into the walls as this room did. Although, perhaps that was a positive thing now that he considered it; some of his memories were far from pleasant. But there was nothing to be done about it.

At least he was able to take his personal belongings, which were far more than the Ministry would ever guess. The Malfoys had never trusted any one establishment with a full, detailed report of their wealth, as individuals and firms could be easily bought and controlled. They had made sure to diversify their holdings, leaving much of it out of the country and uncatalogued within the confines of the Ministry for this very reason – if they had to leave suddenly, they could without concern.

So, he and his mother were actually a lot better off than the token nest egg the Ministry had provided 'in good faith' from their _own_ Gringotts account. They may have seized the rest and the manor, but they truly had no idea that those were but a pittance of his total inheritance. Much of it was safely tucked away, in countries that held no ties to the British Wizarding Community or was held in-house, in a secret vault in the manor itself. And he had cleaned that out, sending its ample wealth to the vault in their château in Nice.

He honestly wished he'd be around to see the stunned faces of the Ministry lackeys when they finally cracked the wards and jinxes on the vault, only to find that there was nothing but crumbling tomes, rickety furniture and a very small mound of galleons (thanks to the oh-so-generous nest egg the Ministry had awarded them from their own bloody vault) that lie under an elaborate glamour And then, it would be too late, as Draco and his mother would be laughing their arses off, safely tucked away in Nice and out of those greedy bastards' hands.

Stupid, his ancestors were not.

Sighing, he turned to his personal elf, Missy, and was about to give her additional instructions on the packing they were doing, when another elf popped into his room.

"Mr. Harry Potter is being in the salon, Master Malfoy," it squeaked, and Draco tried to remember its name, but failed, as he'd never paid much attention to the house elves outside Missy, who had been assigned to him since birth.

"Bring him up here then" he ordered, waving the elf off on its task and turned to Missy, pointing to his winter wardrobe. "Pack everything in that wardrobe into those two trunks, please, Missy And then you can work on the fall wardrobe and pack its contents into the last two. Then shrink them and pop them over to the château."

"Really, Draco, I knew you were a clothes horse, but separate wardrobes for each season?" Harry quipped as he leaned against the door jamb, his eyes glittering with humour; a marked difference from his earlier demeanour "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Not all of us live in denims and t-shirts," he sneered playfully, even as he admired the way the raven filled out said denims and t-shirt. Walking over to him, Draco brushed a soft kiss against those laughing lips and sighed, pulling the shorter boy close and resting his head against his brow. "You seem to be in a better mood; everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Draco's mouth, sighing quietly. "I just needed to take care of a few things before I came over. But let's not talk about it just now, yeah? I came over to spend some time with you and I'd rather not rehash unpleasant scenes no matter how necessary."

"But..." Draco protested, closing his mouth when Harry shook his head with a firm smile; he knew that when Harry set his mind on something, he could be a stubborn prat about it, and no amount of cajoling could move him. "Well then, Mr. Potter, here I am. What do you intend to do with me?"

Draco smirked when Harry's eyes immediately darkened with lust at his husky tone, his typically bright, emerald eyes shading into a deep forest as he pressed Draco into the wall, making his breath hitch. Draco had always loved when Harry got like this, even when they were fighting as schoolboys. All that barely leashed power directed at him made something low and primal in his gut smoulder and burn. When he was a child, he'd always attributed that feeling to hatred, but as he grew older, he recognized it for the lust that it was. He may have still disliked the boy intensely, but fuck, he was gorgeous and those flashing eyes, crackling magic and temper-flushed cheeks had been a turn on.

Draco had always been attracted to power, so was it any wonder that Harry affected him this way? Of course, as time went on, it had grown beyond that, but Harry's power still got him off something fierce.

"What would you have me do, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry purred dangerously against his ear, sending a shiver of desire down his spine as that low, sexy growl curled around things low in his body and stoked the fire already burning there.

"You'd give your captive a choice, Mr. Potter?" he replied breathlessly, whimpering when Harry growled again at his words, latching his mouth onto the juncture of Draco's neck and shoulder, chuckling darkly when Draco's breath grew rough under his ministrations. "That's not very marauder-like of you. I thought they merely took what they wanted? After all, what if I told you I wanted you to release me?"

"Well, in that case, I'd just have to convince you otherwise, wouldn't I?" Harry whispered against his skin, sinking his teeth into it, eliciting a startled cry from Draco's lips as his knees buckled. Oh, yes, he did love when Harry got this way; it went straight to his cock when his lover got forceful, taking whatever he pleased without concern to him or his wants. Not that Draco would complain – if he could.

"Mmmm...bedroom," he murmured, inhaling sharply at the feral grin that spread across Harry's face as he grabbed his hand and dragged him across the common area. "Missy, finish here and then go help mother with anything she needs. Tell her...tell her I'll be busy for a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours, Malfoy?" Harry smirked, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him through the bed chamber door before kicking it shut behind them. "Try the rest of the night."

"Merlin," Draco rasped, moaning in the back of his throat when Harry toppled him onto the bed and crawled on top of him, his last coherent thought being he didn't realize house elves could smirk. And then Harry's mouth and hands were on him and all he knew was heat and passion and a pleasure greater than any other he had previously experienced.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"We're going with you," Andromeda announced out of the blue, making Harry choke on his tea, spewing it across the table. Smirking, Andi flicked her wand and cleaned up the mess, then set it back down and picked up her teacup, sipping at the steaming brew daintily.

Harry had come straight from Gringotts, where he had spent nearly three hours changing his will, solidifying his assets and closing off any questionably draws on his accounts, and then he'd transferred the majority of the Potter and Black holdings to the continent. He had no intention of remaining in a country under the helm of Dumbledore and his cronies after everything he had done.

But he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to tell Andromeda, Tonks and Remus that he was planning to move to his property in Burgundy, a lovely little vineyard that had a respectable, local draw and limited distribution. He very much liked the idea of spending the rest of his working life as a small-time vintner, learning the ropes of the wine industry and how to run the vines themselves, having always loved working with his hands.

"Oh, please, Harry," Tonks snorted, 'innocently' resting her hand on his godfather's knee, grinning at her blushing husband unrepentantly as he tried to squirm out of her teasing grasp. Smirking at Tonks, he sipped his tea without comment. "We knew the moment Dumbledore opened his fool mouth and handed down Draco's sentence; it was pretty much a given."

"I didn't realize I was that transparent," he replied softly, doubly glad now that he'd seen to the legalities before Dumbledore could recoup and try to enforce his compliance. He shuddered to think what might have happened had he delayed even another day.

"We just know you, cub," Remus reassured, rubbing Teddy's back, soothing the baby's soft snuffling before the tot slipped back into a sound sleep. "We know how much Draco means to you and knew you wouldn't take this sitting down. It's not in your nature to roll over and fall into line no matter what Dumbledore hoped to accomplish."

"He accomplished exactly nothing," Harry growled, compressing his lips into a thin line. His fingers twitched, desperately wanting to seek out his former mentor and curse the old fool for his actions, but he had everything precisely planned out for once and wouldn't allow his temper to rush him; no matter how tempting it might be to see Dumbledore suffer.

"He lost a great deal, yes," Andi agreed with a regal nod, her lips set into a prim little smirk; Harry had no idea that smirks could even be considered prim, but Andi managed it somehow. "But as we said, we are coming with you. I'll not stay here when I can see that this is only the beginning. Right now, they are focused on Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters, but to which direction do you think they will cast their eyes and nets next when that's through?"

"Dark creatures," Harry muttered darkly, frowning at the thought as he looked over to Remus and Teddy. After the havoc Greyback and his ilk had wrecked, along with the vampires under Voldemort's thrall, he had no doubt stricter restrictions would be coming. "Or what they perceive as dark creatures."

"Exactly," Andi agreed, setting her teacup aside, looking between the members of her surviving family seriously. "Remus fought on the side of the Light, and that might buy him some time, but what do you think will happen when they have everything under their thumb? They'll eventually turn on him, because on the side of the Light or not, he is a werewolf. And his blood runs through Teddy's veins as well, and I'll not have either my son-in-law or my grandson persecuted for something that was no fault of their own."

"I agree," Tonks nodded, her arms crossed over her chest, anger flashing through her, currently, blue eyes. Then she turned and smoothed a hand over her son's hair, which flashed a bright turquoise under her caress, bringing a smile to all of their faces. "I will not have any of my family endangered. I've already written my resignation to the Auror Corp. Although, I won't send it until right before we leave. I will have my husband and son safe."

"Remus?" Harry asked quietly, wondering what was going through the quiet man's head as he hadn't said anything during the conversation.

"I go wherever you go, cub," Remus replied, nodding his compliance to Andi and Tonks wishes. "Wherever my family is; I promised your parents I'd watch over you and I'll not break that promise. Especially as I wasn't able to when you were younger."

"You're all welcome, of course," Harry smiled softly, a warm glow suffusing his heart as he studied his family. "I have a vineyard in the Burgundy region in France that I was planning to cultivate. It's a bit of a distance from Draco and his mother, but I thought I'd settle there..."

Harry paused as the floo activated, and Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, spilled out, surprising him when she immediately crossed the room and pressed a kiss to Andi's cheek. He had known that the two sisters had reconciled after the war, but he'd never seen the proof of it, nor did he realize just how close they'd become. That did explain the additional tea setting, however; he wondered where Draco was, if his mother was here.

"Sorry I'm late," Narcissa murmured, sitting next to her sister and accepting the cup Andi had filled for her. "Draco was asking me about some items in the manor, and time got away from me, I'm afraid."

"Not to worry, dear," Andi assured her youngest sibling, patting her on the hand. "We we're just getting started anyway by informing young Harry, here, what we intended to do."

"Ah, yes," Narcissa smirked at his surprise, letting Harry know just which parent Draco had gotten that expression from, and it certainly wasn't the one he'd always assumed. "Honestly, Mr. Potter, did you think you could keep it a secret? My son might be too wrapped up in his wallowing to see your intentions, but I am not nearly so blind. I knew the moment you walked away, what would happen."

"I..." Harry stammered; bloody hell, was he really that damned predictable? Looking at three identical smirks (yes, definitely a Black trait), he was worried that he'd spoken aloud, but shook it off and blushed at being so obvious in his affections. "I don't know what to say."

"Nothing needed," Narcissa waved off his embarrassment. "I've known how you felt about my son for a while, as well as how he feels about you. I'm happy that he has found that. I won't say anything to Draco as I know you intend to surprise him. Besides, if the foolish boy can't figure it out for himself, let him wallow for a bit."

"That's evil, Aunt," Tonks snickered, her mirth belaying her words completely. Draco was an idiot if he honestly believed Harry would just look the other way and let him leave without a fuss.

"Oh, please," Narcissa laughed. "Nothing less than the boy deserves. Honestly, sometimes that boy is as tunnel-visioned as his father."

"In his defence, I haven't exactly said anything to the contrary," Harry pointed out sheepishly, trying to be fair to Draco. "It's not that I want him to worry or be upset, but I know he'll try to claim that I'm doing this to be noble and, trust me, there is nothing noble about my decision. It is completely selfish."

"We know, cub," Remus smiled, shifting Teddy to his other arm and picking up his cup to take a sip of tea. "The point they're trying to make is this - Draco should know by now that you don't do things by half measures, and had he been thinking clearly, he'd realize that there is no way in hell you'd stay behind. That is all."

"Well, he is a bit scattered at the moment," Harry defended quietly before lapsing into a silence under indulgent smiles and allowed the others to continue making plans around him, just enjoying spending time with his family. He'd always wanted this as he grew up, a large family, sitting around discussing their days and future plans and he was thankful that so many of his adopted family survived.

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa said, breaking through his reverie. "A most peculiar thing happened to me the other day..." Harry's eyes widened as astute eyes settled on him and Narcissa arched a brow. He'd forgotten that as a Black, Narcissa would be affected by his actions. "After Draco and I arrived home, I was suddenly awash in Black family magic and found I couldn't speak of a certain headmaster. Draco, felt it too, but didn't understand what was happening. Care to explain?"

"Harry?" Remus queried softly, his eyes widening as they fell on his godson's pale face. Remus and the others had left after the sentencing, needing to get back to Teddy, so they weren't aware that there was more to it. He also knew that few things would explain the event Narcissa mentioned, but he would have never expected Harry to go to such measures. "What did you do, Harry?"

"I invoked an ancient ritual that declared Dumbledore persona non grata to the Houses Potter and Black," Harry replied implacably, no remorse evident in his face until he looked at Andi and Narcissa. "Forgive me Andi, Madame Malfoy; I forgot as surviving Blacks, you'd feel the magic and I should have discussed it with you both first."

"Harry," Andi gasped in astonishment, shock reverberating through her core. There were few rituals of that flavour and all came with a stigma that followed the family line for generations to come. "You shouldn't have done that; this isn't worth it."

"Pardon my language, but the hell it isn't," Harry stated firmly, not budging in the least from his stance. "If not this, then what? Dumbledore made a _vow_ to Draco that night to _protect_ him and his mother. I _witnessed_ that vow. If he can so easily break this one, what else would he do to others that stand in his way? I am not stupid, Andi; I know _exactly_ why he did this and I will not allow him to win."

Remus, Tonks, Andromeda and Narcissa exchanged surprised glances with each other before turning back to the passionate man in front of them in awe.

"Besides, it wasn't just Draco and Madame Malfoy's trials that brought this on. It was only a fraction of the reason; the proverbial straw if you will," Harry continued heatedly. "He also cost me my godfather when he sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial, then sent me to my joke of a family and never once checked on my well being, and then proceeded to manipulate my life from the moment I set foot in Hogwarts. Trust me, there were plenty of reasons to rescind my favour with Dumbledore."

"Then let me thank you on behalf of the both of us...Harry," Narcissa responded quietly, torn from her surprise by Harry's passionate tirade. "You have my blessing after the fact; not that you need it being the head of my House. And please call me Narcissa."

"Thank you, Narcissa," Harry nodded, his cheeks still flushed with temper, and now a touch of embarrassment. "I still should have consulted you and Andi. But I'll admit to allowing my temper to get the better of me this time."

"I'm not a Black any longer, Harry," Andi reminded him softly, her tone slightly bitter. She didn't regret standing up for herself and marrying for love, but being forcefully cut from her family still stung. "My mother saw to that."

"That's being rectified as we speak," Harry replied quietly, flushing uncomfortably when Andi gave a soft cry, her hand flying to Narcissa's "I began the paperwork today to have you reinstated to the family tree; so...in a few weeks or so...yeah."

"Thank you, Harry," Andi replied after a long moment.

"That's what family is for," Harry shrugged self-consciously, laughing when he was suddenly scooped up into an exuberant hug from Tonks, who danced him across the room in her excitement, while Andi and Narcissa just beamed at each other quietly, a rift finally mending.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Draco stepped back and took one final look at his ancestral home and tried to feel some sense of remorse or loss that he was leaving it behind, but truly felt nothing. If anything, he felt as if some sort of oppressive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd come to hate living there in the months that led up to his sixth year and subsequent abandonment of the Dark and had planned to completely gut the place once he'd obtained his freedom.

A bitter chuckle spilled over his lips at that thought. _Freedom_. Well, he supposed he did have that now, but not in the way he had thought or intended.

Sighing, he turned his back to the manor; no, he really wasn't going to miss it at all sadly. In fact, the only thing that cast a pall over walking away from this whole mess without any regrets was Harry. He'd desperately wanted to ask the brunet to leave with him, to make a new life in France, but every time he opened his mouth to do so, he paused and reconsidered, realizing it was a selfish desire, and thus held back. When he'd developed a conscience, he had no idea, but it was damned inconvenient sometimes. Not to mention, a small, insecure part of him feared that, had he asked, Harry would look at him with sad green eyes and tell him he couldn't leave his friends and family behind.

He supposed there was nothing preventing Harry from coming to visit – nothing legal anyway – but he also wouldn't put it past certain factions to do everything in their power to keep them apart, in the guise of protecting him from the big, bad Death Eater. Never mind the fact that he had devoted much blood, sweat and tears to helping Harry, battling at his side faithfully, researching even the most insignificant details, one of which directly lead to the last horcrux, and then developing a way to destroy said horcrux without the use of basilisk venom or fiendfyre, which was difficult to control.

In the end, nothing he had done seemed to matter; in many of their eyes, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, and it certainly didn't fit the hero mould to have Harry in love with him.

Pivoting on his foot, he shunted the vicious thoughts aside, and began to tap said foot impatiently. His mother decided to do one last walk through, making sure that they had taken anything of value, whether it be sentimental or monetary – they would be damned if those greedy bastards got anything more from the Malfoys – and likely just to see it one final time. She did have far more fond memories of the manor than he did. But he really wanted to get out of there before anyone could catch them leaving ahead of schedule.

He admitted it; he was taking the cowards way out.

He just couldn't bear to say goodbye to Harry.

Startling when he heard the familiar pop of apparation, he groaned when he saw a stony-faced raven walking towards him determinedly, a firm smile sliding over his face when he caught sight of Draco, and somehow, he just knew that Harry had found out that he was planning to leave today. Watching his lover carefully, he waited until Harry drew abreast of him before smiling slightly nervously.

"What are you doing here?" he asked apprehensively, as if he wasn't well aware of the reason when Harry frowned.

"Your _mother_ told me of your plans," Harry accused softly, placing an emphasis on mother as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you really intend to leave without saying a word? Did I mean that little to you that you could leave and not think twice?"

" _No_ ," Draco cried, flushing and fidgeting uncomfortably under those slightly hurt eyes, horrified that Harry could possibly think that walking away from him was an easy task. He had been so wrapped up in doing the right thing, and not controlling Harry's life like so many others, as well as how hard it had been on him to leave while Harry remained, he hadn't really considered how his actions might appear to his lover. And it left him feeling profoundly shamed for his selfishness. "No, I just...couldn't say goodbye...to you."

Draco cringed at his words, sounding lame even to his own ears, and only hoped that Harry could forgive his weakness.

"And you actually thought I'd just _let_ you walk away?" Harry asked, a bemused smile on his face as he cocked a brow at his shamefaced boyfriend. "That I would have _let_ you say goodbye?"

"What?" Draco queried, confusion lighting his eyes when the brunet snorted and shook his head, his eyes bright with emotion, and he noticed for the first time that Harry had a bag slung over his shoulder. Studying the other man carefully, he whispered, "What's going on?"

"I'm going with you, of course, you stupid Slytherin," Harry snorted, smirking at Draco's stunned expression. "You didn't honestly believe I'd allow you to go off on this adventure on your own, did you?"

"But, Harry," he stammered, a warm glow quickly replacing the confusion and surprise as he studied Harry's face for any doubts or concerns; and finding none, felt compelled to point out. "If you go with me, you can't come back. Not easily anyway. They'll never fully trust you again."

"Ask me if I care?" Harry snorted again. "The people that matter, are committed to joining me. And as for the rest, they've shown their true colours over the past few weeks. There's nothing left for me here and everything to gain by going. This is not the world I fought so long and hard for...I'd prefer to make my own place in a home of our own choosing."

"You mean..." Draco trailed off in horror at the thought of a certain redhead and know-it-all going with them, spluttering as he tried to wrap his mind around it all. "Please tell me the Weasel isn't..."

"No," Harry shook his head emphatically, moving closer to Draco to take his hands. "No, until they part from manipulative headmasters, I want nothing to do with them. Remus, Tonks, Teddy and Andromeda are waiting for me, well _us_ if you agree to my request, at my vineyard near Macon."

"What request?" Draco inquired hesitantly, a frisson of excitement beginning to fizz and bubble inside his gut.

"Come with me," Harry requested softly, a gentle smile on his face. "Live with me. Share your life with me. Share _my_ life."

Draco stared at the brunet, dumbfounded, all thought and speech suspended as Harry pulled out a ring from his pocket. It was a platinum band with three princess cut emeralds, that matched the sparkling eyes in front of him. Swallowing thickly, he raised wide-eyes to his boyfriend, wonder, and just a touch of apprehension, swirling in his heart. He did love Harry, but they were young yet, and still had a lot to learn about each other; he didn't think he was ready for such a step.

"This is not a proposal," Harry cautioned, squeezing his hand when his face fell just a bit in spite of his previous thoughts. "At least not yet. When that happens...you'll know it without a doubt and it won't be weighted down by all this unhappiness. What this _is_ , is a promise from me to you that I will always stand by your side. It's a symbol of my affections, and that I always want to be a part of your life, even if it doesn't work down the line. It will also key you into my wards. Please, come with me. Live with me."

"But everything was already sent..." Draco whispered to himself in disbelief, before shaking his head to clear it. True, everything _had_ been sent to his château, but that really wasn't much of an argument; his personal things could easily be moved while the furniture was left there and used as a vacation home. But what would his mother say? He couldn't just leave her in the château alone. "My mother..."

"Has agreed to whatever you wish," Harry assured. "If you choose to live at your place near Nice, I completely understand and it won't stop me from seeing you. It's just an apparation jump or two away. But I would love it if you stayed with me. Plus, while my home is on the vineyard, the actual manor and its grounds are under fidelis, so no one even knows its there. An added level of protection for us all."

"I..." Draco stammered, looking between Harry and the ring and the manor and back again, his mind racing. When he'd first seen Harry, he hadn't expected this, but now, he couldn't deny that he wanted it heart and soul; and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Yes," he whispered, his heart fluttering when Harry slid the ring on his finger, feeling a warm rush of magic wash over him as it accepted him. Cupping Harry's face, he pulled the brunet in for a soft kiss, smiling against his lips as Harry's arms wrapped around him. Drawing back he leaned his brow against Harry's and whispered again. "Of course, yes."

"Brilliant," Harry rasped, grinning at him madly, practically jumping in excitement.

"You're mental..." Draco smirked, shaking his head at his boyfriend's antics.

"So you've always said," Harry hummed agreeably, snickering when Draco continued to watch him with bemused eyes. "Now lets get your mother and get out of here before the Calvary show. I'm not about to listen to them whine about my choices. I gave them seven years of my life and I'll not give them a single minute more; I won't become their figurehead."

"Bloody Gryffindor," Draco shook his head, pressing a tender kiss to the shorter man's temple.

"You know you love me," Harry quipped lightly, tugging Draco towards the door with the intention of finding his mother, who he was now certain wasn't really looking through the manor, but giving Harry the chance to ambush him. They'd have to discuss _that_ later.

"I do," he agreed, smiling when beryl eyes lit up and Harry beamed at him, sneaking a quick kiss before walking into the formal salon. "Even if I still think you're mental for doing this."

"I love you too, my Dragon," Harry replied, his tone slightly sardonic in acknowledgement of his latter comment. Turning to his mother, Harry smiled and gave a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand as she walked forward. "My lady."

"Harry," his mother greeted softly, a genuine smile lighting her face, startling Draco as she had always been so formal with Harry despite his having asked her to call him by his given name repeatedly. They really did need to have that discussion in light of these recent developments. "It is good to see you again."

"Come," Harry replied, pulling out a small length of rope, obviously a portkey to his estate. Offering it to him and his mother, he waited until they each grasped it to pull out his wand. "Andromeda and her family await. Onto the next adventure."

"Why does it terrify me when you say that?" Draco muttered under his breath, holding the rope gingerly.

"Because you're wise to his antics," his mother laughed and smirked knowingly.

Harry just laughed and touched the rope with his wand and whispered 'sanctuary,' activating the portkey and whisking them away from the manor just in time, as Dumbledore and several Ministry lackeys came through the door, fuming that their plans had been thwarted.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

_One week later..._

Harry sat at the table, sipping his tea, and finally getting around to reading the post. He'd been up at the crack of dawn, in an effort to ready the vines for harvest, helping cast the protective spells necessary to make sure they didn't damage the fruit or the vines themselves when they started stripping them of their bounty.

He'd fallen right into the role of wine-making, trying to learn everything he possibly could about running his vineyard, and while he knew that he still had years of training ahead of him before he'd be able to take charge of it himself, he wasn't worried. He enjoyed the whole process and the sense of peace and joy that stole over him out amongst the vines. Plus Jean-Luc was a master when it came to culling the best from his vines and he was more than happy to let the older man take the lead.

Pushing aside the personal and business correspondence for later, he picked up the Prophet and shook it open. Usually, he didn't bother with the paper, as it had spent so many years maligning him and he'd never found it to be of much worth; but this had been sent to him by a certain reporter, who promised that the news was quite entertaining. Glancing at it, he smirked when Arctic blue eyes blazed at him from the centre of the page, the screaming headline the obvious source of Dumbledore's displeasure.

**Saviour Denounces British Wizarding Community; Names Former Mentor 'Oathbreaker'**

Chortling in amusement, Harry shook his head, mentally tipping his hat to the wily news reporter, who had thankfully kept her word to bury what she later called the 'story of the century' until he was safely out of the country. He had debated on letting her have at it when he'd first spoke with her, but quelled that instinct, as he realized that if it had been reported while he was still in England, he'd never have been allowed the necessary peace or time to take care of his personal affairs.

Setting the paper aside for a moment, Harry sipped his tea and let his mind fall back to that last 'closed' session of Wizengamot, a smug smile etched into his face.

_"I am not done, old man," he sneered, levelling hard green eyes, fairly crackling with rage and power onto Dumbledore and his associates, making their faces pale and bodies to quell under the heat of his contempt. "Not by a long shot. In fact, you could say, I've only just begun."_

_Compressing his lips, he stared at the room, disgusted by the self-serving, cowardly faces watching him intently; out of the hundred or so people here, he only recognized a handful that had actually put their lives on the line to keep their community safe. And sadly, most of those people were in the witness gallery. The rest of them likely sat on their cowering arses at home while children fought their war, all of their hopes pinned onto a single, seventeen-year-old boy, who had done nothing to exacerbate the conflict other than being born at a specific time. It was pathetic._

_Turning his gaze back to Dumbledore, he sneered. He blamed that last bit on him. Touting Harry as the next coming of Merlin and allowing the people to fall into a complacency that sickened him, all because they'd supposedly had a saviour that was going to deliver them from evil, rather than encourage them to defend their own world. Pulling out his wand, he swept it through the air, beginning the ancient ritual that would sever the strings his so-called mentor had wrapped around him with finality._

_"I, Harry James Potter, Head of House Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do hereby condemn one, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of House Dumbledore, as Oathbreaker."_

_Smirking when gasps rang throughout the chamber, he continued, ignoring the way Hermione tried to get his attention in an effort to break the spell. He'd deal with that particular oathbreaker later._

_"As Head of House Potter, Head of House Black, I sever all ties and alliances with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of House Dumbledore, and any of his known, and unknown, allies. I do hereby cast out this Oathbreaker from further association with any Potter, Black, Evans, or any other line directly descending from House Black and House Potter. As I will it, so mote it be."_

_The flare of magic that swirled around him and Dumbledore was twice as strong as the magic that shredded the ties between him and the Order, enveloping them a bright golden flash of light as it bound each of them to Harry's oath before it spilled out, trickling to various people in the courtroom. The colour that lit around each individual denoted the person's affiliation - white for his allies and line; a purplish-black for Dumbledore's pawns._

_He wasn't surprised when the most of the Weasleys lit up purplish-black. He'd learned long ago that they were staunchly in Dumbledore's corner, but what did surprise him was the neutral light around Fred, George and Charlie; and he made a mental note to contact them at a later date._

_"Let it be noted, in record and history, that the House of Potter, House of Black, will no longer associate with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore or his descendants or allies or associates. Any member of the Houses Potter and Black doing so will be declared Oathbreaker and cast out of the family. As I will it, so mote it be."_

_The magic solidified and cemented his words, causing a frisson of electricity to jolt down those affected, binding them to his vow._

_Silence filled the chamber, deafening in its weight, as not even a cough or shuffle or squeak could be heard in the wake of Harry's actions. Stunned, pale faces stared out at him, wondering what had made Harry not only called his mentor an Oathbreaker, but also sever all connections to the man, not only for himself, but his entire line and future descendants._

_"Checkmate, old man," Harry said into the ensuing silence before pivoting on his heel and walking out the door, the sound of whispers and general outcries following in his wake._

Coming back to himself, Harry picked up the paper and began to read, curious as to what Rita had to say about his actions and that meddlesome old man.

... ... ...

**Saviour Denounces British Wizarding Community; Names Former Mentor 'Oathbreaker'**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_In an exclusive interview, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, has shared several penseived memories, as well as pivotal information, regarding the true happenings of the war. After a closed Wizengamot session, Mr. Potter shared his reasoning for breaking away from the British Wizarding Community, beginning with the stunning revelation that Sirius Black, notorious Azkaban escapee and supposed murder, was in fact, innocent of all charges raised against him, including the betrayal of James and Lily Potter. According to young Mr. Potter, my dear readers, it was Peter Pettigrew, another family friend, that had been the family's secret keeper, who then betrayed that sacred trust, resulting in the deaths of Mr. Potter's parents, and that of the twelve muggles that sent Black to Azkaban without a trial._

_Among other things listed, Mr. Potter cited a childhood spent with abusive, negligent muggles, who routinely starved and punished him for being, in Mr. Potter's words, 'a freak.' His maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley, had long since been envious of her sister Lily's magical abilities and grew to hate anything in the magical realm, including that of her sister's orphaned son._

_Mr. Potter spent ten years in negligence, pain and complete ignorance of his wizarding heritage, where he was told that his parents, well-regarded heroes, were nothing more than ne'er-do-well drunkards that died in a car accident. The poor child never even knew he was a wizard, let alone that he was regarded as the Saviour, until he received his Hogwarts letter, as no one had bothered to check on his health or well-being the entire time he lived in the muggle world._

_Mr. Potter then listed instance after instance of where the headmaster, and other notable staff and faculty, often turned a blind eye to events occurring within the school, which put the Saviour and his friends in grave and unnecessary danger. (See pgs. 2-5 for a full accounting Mr. Potter's school years.)_

_At the end of the closed session, which Mr. Potter revealed was a trial for Draco Lucius Malfoy, a noted dark figure that repented and allied himself to the Light, solidifying Potter's victory with his research (see pg. 6 for full story), Potter declared former Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, an Oathbreaker, severing all ties between his house and that of the Houses Potter and Black (which Potter heads through a distaff line)._

_And after much tireless investigation, my dear readers, this reporter has discovered that several Light families and individuals have since distanced themselves from Dumbledore, some going as far as to invoke the same ancient rituals to sever ties in an effort to retain the British Wizarding Hero's favour This includes the Board of Governors, who have stripped Dumbledore of his headmaster title and are currently debating on a replacement; Minerva McGonagall is currently filling the role of headmistress in the interim._

_As for what's next for our Saviour, he said he plans to retire to one of his estates on the continent with his family, and the love of his life, Draco Malfoy. I'm sure I speak for all of us, when I say that we hope for the best and wish these two courageous men all the happiness in the world._

... ... ...

Snickering softly, Harry dropped the Prophet onto the table and picked up his tea with a triumphant smirk. The whole bloody issue. He couldn't believe that Rita managed to talk the editors into a whole bloody issue for his story. Shaking his head, he snickered once more when Dumbledore snarled at him from the Prophet's front page.

"Checkmate indeed, old man," he murmured, waving his wand and banishing the issue, and his mail, to his office for later consumption and then stood, draining the last of his tea as he snapped his fingers for Mipsy to clear the table. "Checkmate indeed."

Striding to the double doors leading to porch, Harry slipped through them and smiled softly as he caught sight of pale blonde hair gleaming in the dim sunlight. Draco leaned against the railing, an equally soft smile on his face as he watched the workers scurry back and forth, preparing for tomorrow's harvest and the first crush. Three women – one blonde, one brunette and one with bubble gum pink hair – sat on a blanket, cooing at a chubby baby with turquoise hair as he sat up on his own and played with a bunch of bright-coloured blocks, while his godfather talked to Jean-Luc.

Coming up behind Draco, he wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on the blonde's shoulder, humming in contentment when Draco leaned back against him. Revelling in their closeness, Harry stared out over the vineyard, his eyes full of dreams, imaging a few blonde and dark-haired children racing through the vines, followed by a bright turquoise head, and one or two more Lupin children. He could see Draco arguing with Jean-Luc about expansion plans and Narcissa and Andi taking tea as they watched the children indulgently. And he could see Remus and Tonks walking hand-in-hand to their little cottage at the back of the property, Tonks stomach gently rounded.

Smiling dreamily, he looked up to find shining grey eyes watching him, a smirk tugging at Draco's lips when he blushed, having been caught with his head in the clouds yet again. Chuckling quietly, Draco bent down and brushed a kiss against his mouth, humming happily when Harry met him with an understate passion, deepening the caress until they were both short of breath and shaking from the intensity of their emotions. Drawing back, Draco turned in his arms and pulled him close, resting his brow against his.

"Happy?" Draco asked quietly, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Completely," Harry smiled, tightening his grasp on the blonde before they both turned and watched the sun break through the cloud coverage, their minds filled with infinite dreams and possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet based on Run by Snow Patrol.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our greatest enemy is often ourself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** The final vignette in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes (at least for now). Based on Sin by Nine Inch Nails. Since the topic was sin, I also tried to work in as many of the seven deadly sins as possible and even a fairly obvious biblical reference. The italic text is Harry's dialogue during their final confrontation. Not a happy ending.

_"Yeah, true, according to your view, the mighty have fallen, and fallen quite far. But what does that say about you, Malfoy?"_

The first thing he remembered when he thought of Harry Potter, was a bone-deep, gut-wrenching envy. A sick, curdled maleficence that overcame him, owned him every time someone mentioned the other man's name. Or a publication once again touted the wonders of his spirit, his magic, his parents' love and sacrifice for their only son and heir. Or someone that touted the kindness of his heart and the beauty of his smile. Every time he saw one more award lauded onto slim shoulders. Or that yet another organization had named a building, or wing, or park, or library, or hell, even a bloody toilet after him. It made his insides seethe, to burn with a cold, unrelenting, dangerous fire.

It was especially prevalent after the war. A broken and bleeding society turned to their boy savior, desperate for him to put their shattered world back together. They lapped it up, passing legislation after legislation, and decree after decree, approved by the boy wonder. To this day Draco still doesn't really understand how an eighteen-year-old could have held such sway over an entire society with nothing more than a bashful grin and a few quiet words; but Potter managed to take this broken world and rebuild it into the beginnings of a modern day utopia.

This, of course, was all before he married his childhood sweetheart and began popping out equally beautiful, talented children; all of whom were adored and fawned over. Just as their father had been before them. The Savior's children – the next great hope and the new light of the Wizarding World. 

The bane to his existence. 

And he decided then and there that he was through with playing second fiddle to the boy hero and began to plot his downfall.

If only he could go back in time to stop that young, foolish boy, he might not be where he was today.

_"You do have it all – the enviable ministry position, the perfect society wife, a beautiful, intelligent heir and the lapping adulation of the mindless masses. Bravo. Truly – it's everything you've ever wanted, and everything you thought I didn't deserve."_

The next thing he recalled when the name Harry Potter came up, is heat – a sweet, rich, blissful heat and an aching lust of the like that he'd never imagined. It continues to haunt him to this day, flowing through his veins like heady wine. It clung to his lips like honey, even as he lies with another – one who will never melt the chill that has since seeped into his heart.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

He began his attack slowly, stealthily, as any cunning Slytherin would, keeping his true intentions hidden beneath a bed of half-truths and a few well-placed, outright lies. He entered the ministry in a low-rung position; one that had nothing to do with the actual politics. But that was part of his plan. If he were to gun for those positions right off, people would have gotten suspicious before he could’ve worked his magic. Before he could charm them into complacency. 

This way, they didn't see him coming until it was far too late.

He worked his thankless job, ever diligent, ever enthusiastic and generally affable. He garnered favor from, and the attention of, those that mattered. He modestly shunted aside their praise; even as he ate it up. He hoarded those words like a gluttonous thing and stored them away for later consumption and analysis. These words, these deeds, would be the beginnings to his inevitable climb in the ministry, and subsequently, his total domination of all things Potter.

In tandem to his rise through the ranks, he sought out his rival, the _boy-who-fucking-had-everything,_ and began to slowly cultivate that link; scoping Potter out for any potential weaknesses. 

It was during one of these many 'friendly' conversations that he noticed Potter's shy fascination with him. The way he bumbled, and blushed, and seemed to watch Draco with a helpless curiosity. He noticed the way his gaze skittered away when Draco looked up, but not before Draco caught the heat, the desire in his eyes. And while Draco had never intended to go that route, it was just one more chink in Potter's armor, and he relished it, cultivated it, and encouraged its growth.

Besides, there were far worse things in life than fucking the Savior – all that power, writhing and panting beneath him...

Well, who could resist?

It had taken him months of flirtation and maneuvering, but eventually he'd landed his prize – a beautifully flushed, tipsy, stuttering Potter splayed across his sheets, arching under the slow, deep thrusts of his cock. He panted and writhed, arching up into each thrust like a two-bit tart. It was a glorious feeling – all that leashed power under his fingertips, and the sweet taste of Potter’s skin under his tongue – it was heady, like ambrosia to his senses.

And if he were to admit it, if only to himself, it had been the best sex in his life. He didn't know if it was the way their bodies fit together, like interlocking puzzle pieces, or two halves made whole; or if it was the way their magic played against one another. But whatever it was, it was hotter than fiendfyre and twice as destructive. And he wanted _more_.

_"But what you never realized, is I never wanted it in the first place. All I wanted was to be left in peace; to have a family and a job that I loved; to finally enjoy the life that was stolen from me as a child."_

Had he been a better man, he would have ended it there.

(Actually, if he had been a better man, he wouldn't have started it at all. But Draco had always been blinded to his true faults.)

But high on his victory, he kept taking everything he could, heedless to the consequences. As people have always said, you reap what you sow, and he had always been a greedy little bastard who'd felt entitled to the world. What a sad, misguided, spoiled brat he had been. Some days, it sickened him to look in the mirror and see his time- and care-worn face staring blankly back at him, mocking him with everything he'd lost.

That one night would have been enough to implode Potter's world; especially if it had been mysteriously leaked to the Prophet. All it would have taken was a hint of scandal and the wizarding world, blind sheep that they had always been, would have done the rest for him. People love to tear down what they revere, so that they feel better about their own flaws.

(If only he'd applied that insight to himself. Hindsight and all that...)

But he pressed on, wanting something much more public. He didn't want a minor, unseen incident that could be denied or explained away as a drunken mistake or error in judgment. And Potter was so golden, he practically shat sunshine to these people – who would believe a Malfoy, even a reformed one, compared to that?

No, he wanted complete and utter destruction of his greatest nemesis.

Besides, he wasn't done with Potter just yet. He was enjoying those hot, desperate nights between the Savior's thighs - slick bodies pressed together, moving in tandem and chasing that white-hot lust that only the raven could provide. He loved holding Potter down and pounding into him, listening to those sweet kittenish noises he made in the back of his throat.

And while he had the Golden Boy, sated, distracted within the confines of his bed, Draco continued his silent campaign. He built up his reputation, hoarding away contacts and discreetly placing a nugget or two of dissension within the ranks that would set the whole of it in motion once he decided on the right time. It was beautiful really – he was a rising star within the Ministry, had the good will of all he met. And the pinnacle of it all, the Savior of the entire fucking world was in his bed. He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was sitting on top of the world.

Which is when it all began to crumble, of course; because nothing stable or lasting could be built upon sand.

_"So yes, I concede. You seemingly have it all; at least everything I had and you so desperately coveted. But what you don't yet realize is, it's all a pack of lies. Your life is a house of cards that will eventually topple, and when you finally pull free of the rubble, you'll have nothing to show for it. You will be alone and wanting and it will be then that your juvenile vitriol will come back to haunt you."_

It was inevitable that Potter's conscience would kick in and he'd try to call things off.

For the most part, Potter was the honest, honorable sort and not one to hurt others; especially his pretty, little redheaded wife, no matter how distant they had grown. He had seen it coming long before Potter had said anything, evident in his elusiveness and the way Potter weakly attempted to fend off his advances. But at the time, it hadn't mattered to him because he was in the perfect position to put the final pieces of his plan in motion and it was time to end the charade.

He relentlessly, and unsympathetically, lured Potter to his doom that night, stating he'd just wanted one last moment with him, a final hurrah before they parted ways. He guilted the Gryffindor easily with a few well placed words, soft touches and a single desperate kiss. It had been another of those boring Ministry gatherings that were required of Potter and what better way to liven an otherwise dull evening than a clandestine meeting in the back? Potter never even suspected that the intimate moment would be forever immortalized in print as he'd lead him behind the curtain; one that would soon rise and expose Potter to the world, as he'd carefully positioned them to be center stage.

Potter froze as the first flashes of lights caught his attention, standing there stony-faced as he took in the cameras and gaping faces as whispers began to circle the room. All of Draco's carefully placed lies came out of the woodwork then as their co-workers began to speculate on the rumors they'd heard. Ones that were cemented when he shoved Potter away, swiping a hand over his mouth in disgust. He loudly proclaimed that he was sick of Potter harassing him, and if Potter didn't stop coming on to him, he'd file a complaint, scorning the man in front of hundreds.

It really was that simple.

He'd placed the right nuggets of misinformation, into the right ears about Potter's supposed activities, and it swept across the Wizarding World within hours. People tsked in disgust that Potter could throw away a perfect, fairytale marriage; that he would stoop so low as to break up the marriage of another co-worker at the same time. People who wondered quite loudly how could he do such a dishonorable thing. In the matter of days, Potter's favor plummeted as the fickle public judged him and found him wanting, and proceeded to hound him on all sides for his deviant nature.

It should have been a resounding victory; but the moment fell flat as bright, verdant eyes filled with betrayal. And Draco realized in that moment, that far from being victorious, he'd just committed his greatest folly. 

But the wheels were set in motion and there was no turning back.

_"I feel sorry for you, really. True, you destroyed my marriage, made me the laughing stock of the Wizarding World. You've have taken my job from me. But I will be the one laughing in the end. Because so long as I retain my heart, my mind, my **soul** \- I will come out the victor. I can remake myself; can you say the same?"_

It was a media circus.

What wasn't when it came to Potter? 

People gorged themselves on the misfortunes of the fallen Savior, himself included. And while he hadn't talked to the so-called press, he hadn't needed to. The stories spun out of control, each successive rumor more fantastic than the last, painting Potter as the unwanted aggressor and he the hapless victim of a schoolboy obsession.

It was oddly ironic that they'd actually gotten the gist of the story correct – just not the parts.

But rather than correct any of their assumptions, and redeem himself somewhat by admitting he had been in the wrong, Draco had fanned the flames. He ate up each word that cemented his favor, while others systematically tore down his nemesis in the same breath. For once, he was the center of attention. He was everyone's favorite. And if he felt the deeper chill of this marital bed after the heat of Potter's flame, he brushed it aside as a consequence of ending an illicit affair.

Anything would seem dull after the excitement of sneaking around for months.

He watched, smug at the time, as Potter's life exploded first in the very public resignation of his job, as he couldn't get any of his subordinates to listen to him, or the people to trust his word. Then the spectacularly heated dissolution of his marriage followed quickly on its heels. They weren't kidding when they said that redheads had nasty tempers and the littlest Weasley was no exception. In fact, she had enough of a temper for all over her brothers combined, all of whom were oddly noncommittal to the whole fiasco, and ripped Potter to shreds publicly.

Vindictive witch that she was, she'd even tried suing for full custody of the children and the entirety of Potter's vaults and holdings, claiming it was her just dues. But that never saw the light of day. It was halted by a very publicly angry Molly Weasley, who slapped her daughter resoundingly across the face for even mentioning it. And then Mama Weasley told her daughter if she even thought of hurting Potter that way, she'd declare her unfit as a mother and sue for custody of the children herself. 

It stayed the Weaselette's hand; and rightly so. Because for all of Potter's failings as a husband, no one could _ever_ say he didn't love his children or that he was by any means a poor father.

The very public support of Molly Weasley and the others didn’t seem to matter however.

The resulting strife only fell onto Potter's shoulders once more, with the baying sheep that made up the wizarding world placing it at his door as well. They found him at fault for his inadvertent involvement in the family argument and cast him as the villain of the piece for bringing such stress and dissent within the family that took him in as a child.

Potter's friends - Ron and George Weasley, Granger-Weasley, Longbottom, Lovegood and others - also held off judgment, watching _him_ with suspicious, accusatory eyes. They made a public showing of supporting Potter and even tried to hold onto their friendship regardless of what happened. But with all contention between him and the Weaselette, and the vitriol that she spat every time Potter was present, it made visiting difficult.

Eventually Potter stopped going to the Burrow altogether, growing ever more reclusive, until finally, one day, he was gone.

_"Enjoy your short-lived victory, Malfoy. I hope it keeps you warm at night when you're staring into the cool, emotionless eyes of your wife and facing the spoiled, disdain of your only child. And remember this..."_

And then there was silence, and an emptiness so unfathomable, that it ate him up inside. 

It replaced the envy that had once curled around his blackened heart. 

With no Potter, there was nothing to measure himself by, and nothing to overcome. There was nothing to fulfill. There was nothing to work for. And it was then that the raven's parting words struck home – what had he truly built in his life?

He'd spent so much of his life, and energy, focused on petty revenge that he'd failed to make measures for what would come after his supposed victory. What was the point to the cushy ministry position without Potter there to lord it over? What was the point to all the fame, if the person you wanted to acknowledge you most, ceased to notice your existence? What was the point of working towards the next goal, when there was no worthy competition?

In the void Potter's abdication of the Wizarding World created in his life, Draco fell into a slump; and finally all the little voices, the ones that had tried to warn him against his actions, and he'd shunted blithely aside, were back in full force. They whispered in his ears that rather than the victor, the winner of his little pissing contest, he was actually a great fool. One blinded by an undeserved hatred, and so twisted by jealousy, that he was left an empty shell once the object of obsession was gone.

And everything he'd built, flimsy as it was, crashed down around his ears.

He resigned from his Ministry position to the protests of many, and the vindictive delight of the few that had always been in Potter's corner, and retired to the manor, completely and utterly lost.

And as time passed, he was quickly forgotten as new scandals came to light and new faces took his place in the halls of the Ministry, and in the end, he wasn't even a footnote in history. He hadn't built anything. Consumed by envy and wounded pride, he hadn't created a single thing in the entire time he'd been playing his petty, juvenile games. 

Potter would go down in history, forever revered and heralded as the man that freed them from tyranny, the creator of the known Wizarding World and the youngest Head Auror ever – a _hero_ despite the scandal that tinged his last year of office.

And Draco – he'd be nothing more than a small notation in the Death Eater ranks.

He could have been so much more; the potential was there. But his driving need for an unjust vengeance blinded him to this and he ended up with nothing to show for it.

And Potter was right – in the end he'd had the last laugh.

_"You may have destroyed the life I built, but you will never destroy me."_

The last thing he thought of when the name Harry Potter comes to mind is pride. 

It's suiting though, isn't it?

After all, 'pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall,' is what one of the Muggle religious texts said. And he had always been a prideful little twat. One who had always thought of himself as superior to everyone else. He was a Malfoy, after all. But looking back over the years, at all the pain and destruction that those who bore his last name had wrought, he'd finally learned the true meaning of humility.

There was no pride in what his ancestors had done; no pride in what he'd done. Destroying a man's life simply because he had been, and will always be, better than Draco in every way, _and_ doing it without ever even trying, was nothing to be proud of. All he'd had to do was turn the other cheek. He could have been gracious and distant when coming across Potter, paying him little mind unless he needed to.

Instead, he'd allowed his envy to rule his life and subsequently ruined it.

He saw it every time he stared into the cool, distant expression on Astoria's face; an expression that found residence there once his infidelity came to light, and met a chilly blue gaze rather than a beloved fiery green. (She had never truly believed his claims to innocence despite publicly supporting him.)

He saw it in the disdainful entitlement that he's unwittingly bred into his own son, marking Scorpius for the same hard life lessons that Draco had taken far too long to learn. And he mourned the difficult life his son will lead.

He saw it in the disappointed gaze that traveled his mother shot him every time she entered his rooms, her disapproval of his actions clear. She'd never outright accused him of ruining Potter's life, but she'd never had to. She had always read him like a book and had seen all things he'd wished to keep hidden.

And most of all, he saw it in _Harry's_ eyes, several years after Harry had fled from the Wizarding World in favor of the Muggle world. 

He had been on a family vacation in Morocco with Scorpius and Astoria, the one time he run into his beautiful raven.

The sight of those gorgeous green eyes, and the thick mass of black curls, along with all that sun-browned, golden skin that literally glowed with health, had stolen his breath away. Harry had been walking through a wizarding marketplace, his fingers twined with those of another man, completely at peace with the world around him and laughing at his partner, who had been merrily haggling with a vendor. 

And Draco'd felt his world, his house of cards, crumble around him as he realized that he'd never have that.

Sucking in a deep breath, he looked away; only to find the mocking eyes of his wife on him. Because she knew, as she'd always known, that he had inadvertently given his heart away all those years ago and he'd never get it back. Turning away, his cheeks burning with mortification, he jolted when that bright, emerald gaze collided with his and widened in surprise. 

They'd stared at each other for a long moment before Draco had turned away once again, unable to bear the happiness that radiated within its depths, and to remember when it had once stared at him with that very same softness.

Inhaling sharply, he'd turned back, unable to resist another glance at the form and face that had haunted him every single day since the man had disappeared. Pain sluiced through his heart as Harry nodded, a soft smile touching his lips before he turned. He wrapped an arm around the nameless, faceless blond who was living _his_ life, and walked away, the both of them oblivious to the shattered heart they'd left in their wake. 

Blinking back his tears, he'd watched until they were nothing more than a speck on the horizon, indistinguishable from all the other bodies moving through the market, and then turned away, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Harry had warned him this would happen. He had all but predicted where their lives would end up. 

Draco would be forever stuck in a cold, lifeless marriage, with a spoiled heir that was far too much like his father to ever do him any good. And Harry...Harry had reinvented himself, forging a new life and happiness beyond Draco's wildest imaginings. 

But in his arrogance, Draco had taken those words to be a man's vain attempt at saving face in the wake of the smoldering ruins of his life.

How wrong he was.

When this all began, Draco had been the ultimate Slytherin; he came up with with a cunning plan that he'd initiated and fueled ruthlessly, meant to bring down his greatest nemesis. And he'd been successful. 

It was his own fault, for realizing too late, that his greatest enemy was himself.

_"That is the true essence of victory."_


End file.
